Harry Potter and the Primes of Merlin
by ZenoNoKyuubi
Summary: Merlin, on his deathbed, split his magic, and prophesized that nine people of his choosing would be given a piece of it. They would be the Primes of Merlin, and the Ninth of them was prophesized to be the strongest, inheriting the most of Merlin's magic.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, guys! I'm back with my very first attempt at a proper Harry Potter fanfic! Now, you will notice in this fic that a lot is taken directly from the books. This is because I want to make this as canon as possible, and trying to write exactly what the mighty Rowling has written without directly copying it would be extremely hard. So, what I have done is copy the books, and adapt it to fit my style. Please don't hate me for it.**

–

_They called him the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter... He was very famous all over the world, for his defeat of the deadly Dark Lord Voldemort. Even at an early age, young Harry was thrust into danger, overcoming many trials of courage and skill. He was, truly, a sight to behold for all who witnessed him in action, wand in hand, taking on any threat that appeared before him, never once turning and running away. This young man was overflowing with courage, and a great power was hidden deep inside his core._

_For young Harry's destiny was decided ever so long ago, back in the time of the greatest sorcerer known to man, Merlin Ambrosius, known in his Welsh tongue as Myrddin Emrys._

_Merlin was a great man, like Harry overflowing with courage and power, but also great wisdom. But, as it was decreed by the laws of nature, even the greatest of men must succumb to time. On his deathbed, however, Merlin made a prophecy. That prophecy said that his power would be split into nine pieces, scattered around the world, hidden... waiting for generations for its heir to appear. The people who were to inherit a piece of Merlin's power would be known as the Primes of Merlin, and each Prime would bring about a great change to the world._

_The First Prime, the great sorceress Elvina, received her power in the year 943, and grew up a famed Seer, known widely as the Prime Oracle. She was the one who established communications with the famous goblin Gringott, and helped him build the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, which would be the first step to coexistence between wizards and goblins. She was also the one who brought Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw together to build Hogwarts, the greatest magical school in Europe, a school that still stands today, its magic as powerful as ever._

_The Second Prime, Selesse, received her power in the year 1782. She grew to be a powerful witch, and she was the greatest Obliviator the world has ever known. In a desperate attempt to prevent the burning of her kin at the hands of the hateful non-magicals, she cast a spell that would take her life. In 1799, she cast the most powerful memory charm in the world, making all the non-magicals in the world forget about the true existence of witches and wizard, leaving them naught but the stuff of myths and legends._

_Those are just two of the great Nine Primes, but I won't bore you with their history, as it is the history of Harry Potter you are interested in, the Ninth Prime, the one the prophecy decreed would be the strongest of them all._

–

14-year old Harry Potter sighed. That strange dream he'd had had felt so real... Coupled with the Death Eaters at the World Cup and the Dark Mark... it left a bad feeling in Harry's gut, and Harry had long since learned to trust his gut. Something bad was going to happen. When, Harry didn't know, but he knew it was gonna happen. He could feel it.

Harry, having left the Burrow for a short time to be alone, wandered the village not far from the Weasley home, and sat down on a bench outside a convenience store. As he sat there, pondering, he noticed in the corner of his eye how someone approached him, and sat down next to him.

"Oh, it feels good to sit down," the man said, sighing with relief. Looking the man over, Harry had to admit that he was reminded of Professor Dumbledore. Long hair and beard, gray, instead of Dumbledore silver, wizened eyes, and a content smile on his face. The old man wore patched clothes, though, looking very much like a bum. In his patched pants, torn shirt, patched coat and knitted, fingerless gloves.

"Er... Can I help you?" Harry asked, getting a hum from the old man.

"Indeed you can," the old man said, and started humming a tune, looking straight ahead. Harry stared at him for a moment, and noticing that Harry was staring at him, the old man glanced at him. "What? You asked a question, and I answered it. Is there a problem?"

Feeling a muscle under his left eye twitch in annoyance, Harry chose to ignore the old man, going back to his musing. The old man kept humming, and Harry felt the twitch again.

"Asante sana Squash banana, Wiwi nugu Mi mi apana."

A complete nutter, the old man was, no doubt. Clearing his throat, Harry turned to the old man.

"Look, will you cut that out, please?"

The old man shook his head. "Not really, sadly," he said. "It just grows right back..."

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. "Right," he muttered, then walked off. As he left, Harry was annoyed to find that the old man was following him.

"Hey, will you quit following me?" Harry asked, glaring at the old fart. He was in no mood for this. "Who are you?"

The old man laughed. "The question is... who are you?"

Harry stopped and turned toward the old man. "What?"

The old man laughed and waved him off. "Sorry, sorry. It was just a little something I heard in a movie that was released recently. I think you'd like it, Harry."

Harry froze. "How do you know my name?"

The old man chuckled. "Oh, I know quite a lot about you, my boy. I've been watching you since the day you were born... even before that. I have been observing your every move since your mother squeezed you out that night fourteen years ago. Ah, yes, never have I seen a woman curse as much as they do when they give birth."

Harry's arm was tense, ready to reach for his wand. "Who are you?"

"Who am I, you say?" the old man asked, humming thoughtfully. "Well, I have gone by many names, but my favorites are my given name, and my nickname." The old man gave a deep bow, smiling serenely. "Myrddin Emrys, also known as Merlin, at your service!"

This introduction was followed by a long silence as Harry stared at the old man in disbelief. Then, realization dawned on his face, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Ooh, you're a loony!"

"Among other things, but I assure you, I am who I claim to be," the supposed Merlin said, rising from his bow.

"I don't know if you've been keeping up with the history, Mr. Emrys, but Merlin is dead," Harry informed politely.

"I know I am," Merlin said and reached out. Harry's hand shot for his wand as he saw the old nutter reaching for him, but his eyes widened when he saw and felt the hand pass right through him, leaving an icy sensation in his chest. "I am merely a spirit, who has stayed behind in this world, visible to only a select few people, so I must inform you that, out of the two of us, _I'm_ not the one looking like a nutter, my boy."

Harry blinked at that and looked around. People had started gathering around him, and were staring at him like he was crazy. Feeling awkward, he locked eyes with a man at the front of the crowd.

"What?"

"Er..." the man started, looking uncomfortable. "Who... uh... who are you talking to?"

Realizing that the supposed Merlin, who was now smiling smugly, was telling the truth, Harry blushed in embarrassment, and glared at the man.

"Myself! Is that a crime?"

Grumbling, Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and stalked off, Merlin following happily.

"Alright..." Harry mumbled uncertainly as he'd walked a safe distance away from the village, where he was sure no one would be listening in. "Say you are Merlin's spirit... Say you've been watching me since I was born... Why?"

"Why?" Merlin asked, humming. "Personal amusement." Harry twitched, and the man chuckled. "Well, that, and because I wanted to see if you were worthy of being informed of your destiny."

"My... destiny?"

"Yes, destiny. Your destiny as a Prime."

Prime... That was something Harry had read about before, but he couldn't remember what it was. "Huh?" Harry asked, looking confused. He really wasn't in a mood for this.

"Prime," Merlin repeated calmly. "You are one of my Primes, the Ninth, the last."

Now Harry remembered. He'd read about something called the 'Primes of Merlin.' History had recorded five people who did great things, and claimed to be something called Primes of Merlin. Harry hadn't believed it, though. They were just people with great skills, right? But now...

"What you've read is starting to seem a bit more believable now, isn't it?" Merlin asked with a smug smile, making Harry jump in surprise. "I know what you're gonna say. 'I'm not a Prime!' 'There's no such thing as a Prime!' 'I'm just Harry!' so we can skip that part and head straight to the part where you start embracing your destiny, instead of trying to run from it and be 'just a regular boy,' which we both know is _never_ gonna happen."

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This guy had apparently been watching him from the day he was born. Therefore, he knew everything Harry had done, everything he'd tried to do, everything he wanted to be... So was there any way out of this? Any way to be just a-

Harry's musings were interrupted by a very real slap from Merlin, who glared at him as Harry rubbed his cheek, staring in disbelief.

"Didn't I just say that you needed to stop doing that?"

"Ow!" Harry exclaimed. "I thought you couldn't touch me!"

"Never underestimate a person's willpower, boy, something that you know all too well. Do you really think that you're just a regular boy, who merely got through all the trials you have by pure luck? One does not stand up to the Eighth Prime and win with pure luck. One does not battle a Basilisk and kill it with pure luck. One does not fend off a hundred dementors with pure luck! Deep down, you know that, but you're just ducking and hiding from what you deep down know is your destiny!"

The man spoke with such passion and power in his voice, that Harry couldn't help but feel a shiver crawl up his spine. Yeah, this was Merlin, alright. A ghost could never exude that much power even when dead.

"And just what is my destiny?" Harry asked, glaring at the old man, who glared right back.

"To be more than what you have become," he said, stealing another line from that Lion King movie that had been released that summer. "You are my Prime, chosen on the day of my death, by me, because of your limitless potential, one who has inherited the biggest part of my magic, who will bring great change to the world, and destroy the Eighth."

"Eighth?" Harry asked, blinking. "Who is that?"

"Tom Riddle, also known as Voldemort," Merlin said, which made Harry's eyes widen. Seeing that Harry was about to ask, he answered before Harry could manage to say a word. "When I chose the Nine Primes, I looked into the future, and I saw potential, great potential, in nine people who would be born. I saw no more, so I chose them, and in the chunks of magic I divided, I gave the second biggest piece to the First Prime, the biggest to you, and the third largest to the Eighth, based on your potential. In my magic, I left a piece of myself, not my soul, but more like an echo, which would be able to manifest itself as I have now. I watched Tom Riddle grow, and even at an early age saw that he had nothing but evil intentions. Therefore, I chose not to inform him of his heritage. I let him be, for the mere knowledge of being a Prime of Merlin will unlock the greater part or the power within you, a power that has now been unlocked for you."

As Harry was slowly letting all that had been said sink in, he blinked. "W-Wait... I don't feel any more powerful than I was before."

"Of course you can't feel it. Sensing magical power is not something you can know from the start. It is something you must learn, and it is a skill that will help you greatly when assessing the threat of opponents that you may come across. This is a skill that Dumbledore knows, and I have no doubt that he would gladly teach it to you if you but ask him. I sense that he has nothing but your best intentions in mind for you. He cares a great deal about you."

Merlin nodded to Harry as the boy noticed his feet start to fade away.

"I have said my piece. The Ninth has been awakened, and my consciousness has no further reason to stay in this world," he said, making Harry's eyes widen.

"W-Wait a minute! You can't just leave after dropping a bombshell like that on me!"

Merlin chuckled merrily. "Still, you underestimate your own worth, Harry. You have a strong body, a great mind, an amazing amount of power, and limitless potential. With age comes experience, my boy. The greatest knowledge and skills are those you have gathered yourself. Don't doubt yourself, Harry, for that will lead to your destruction. Know what you are, Harry. Accept it, and embrace it. Good luck, my boy."

With a bright flash, the old man disappeared, leaving Harry standing alone.

–

_This was a lot of information. Almost more than the fourteen year old wizard could handle. However, like he had done so many times before, Harry showed his courage, and his will, by coping. In merely a few minutes, he accepted what he was. He knew everything Merlin had told him was true, and he finally accepted it. He didn't run away at the responsibilities now placed on his shoulders, but instead accepted it, facing it and standing up to it._

_However, he realized that a path had now been outlined for him. The path he needed to walk, the path of a Prime, in which he would discover his power, tame it, and use it. Though the path had been outlined, he still had now idea how to walk it..._

–

The train ride to Hogwarts was spent reading a book for Harry. The book was 'A Guide To Medieval Sorcery,' a book he had purchased on his first trip to Diagon Alley, but that he'd never really gotten around to reading. Now, however, he was paying extra close attention to it. Apparently, medieval sorcerers used not only wands, but the more powerful ones used either staffs or wandless magic. Merlin and Morgan la Fay, among others, used staffs and wandless magic. Apparently, powerful wizards and witches like them were too powerful for a wand, and their wands didn't function as well as they should have, due to the massive amount of magic flowing through them. Merlin, for instance, had been witnessed causing his wand to explode when attempting a simple cleaning charm, which forced him to craft his very first staff.

That could be a good test to see if... Almost sadly, Harry took out his holly wand. Did he dare test it? The wand had served him so well these last few years... He didn't think he'd be able to take it if it exploded like it did for Merlin...

As he absently twirled his wand, he read about Merlin's musings regarding wandlore, being the only man to have really been able to claim to have the most knowledge regarding wandlore than anyone else. According to Merlin, wands were quasi-sentient, and would warn their wielders when said wielders were starting to become too powerful for the wand to handle. Apparently, Merlin's wand had started to shiver just before Merlin tried the cleaning charm, but the wizard had ignored it.

"...ry? Harry!"

Harry looked up from his book, blinking. Across from him, Hermione was giving him a scolding look, while Ron looked confused.

"What?" Harry asked, wondering why he was getting 'the look.' Hermione huffed.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you taking to studying seriously, Harry, honestly, listen to people when they're talking to you."

"I was reading," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you talk to me despite that fact? I happen to remember a warm spring day in the Gryffindor Tower in first year, when a certain bookworm with bushy hair told me, 'Harry, it's rude to interrupt someone's reading when they're really into it.'"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, then remembered that she had actually said that, and seeing Harry smirk smugly at her, she lashed out with her leg, kicking him lightly on the shin. "Prat."

This caused Harry and Ron to burst out laughing, as it wasn't every day one could stump Hermione Granger.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. What were you saying?" Harry asked, his voice mirthful as he put away his wand.

"Ron believes that there's going to be some kind of big dueling tournament at Hogwarts this year. I said that was unlikely, then asked what you think."

Harry hummed, then shrugged and went back to his reading. "Hakuna matata, Hermione." Hermione blinked, and Harry sighed, looking up at Hermione. "It's Swahili. Means 'No worries.'"

"You speak Swahili?" Ron asked incredulously. Harry looked at him, smirking.

"You don't?"

Inwardly, Harry was panicking, though. He didn't know he spoke Swahili... How in Merlin's name could he speak Swahili? Then, it came to him. Merlin. Was this a manifestation of his powers? But come on, languages didn't just pop into someone's head! They had to be learned, didn't they? This was all very confusing to Harry. He'd have to get to the bottom of that.

Harry kept his nose buried in his book throughout the rest of the journey, not really paying attention to anything. He hardly even noticed when the Hogwarts Express stopped, and they got into the carriages that took them to the school. Only when they sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall did he look up from his book. The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students, and at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. Harry noticed that he was sitting next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at them.

"Evening, Nick," Harry said, nodding. Then, he remembered something. "Hey, Nick, you've been dead for a long time..."

Nick nodded, holding his head up high. "Five hundred and two years this year," he said. "Why?"

"Well, you must have seen and heard some very bizarre things, haven't you?" Harry asked, getting another nod from Nick, which threatened to cause his head to fall, wobbling dangerously despite the ruff. "Have you ever heard of magically learning languages?"

At that question, Nick smiled brightly. "Why, certainly, Harry! In fact, one of the students here, I believe it was... oh, around two hundred years ago, actually studied Parseltongue, and tried to find a way to help others to learn it. Magical languages are, after all, magical, and the student believed the idea to have merit. He failed, sadly, but I believe it is possible to learn magically."

"But what about normal languages?" Harry asked, scratching his head. "Like Swahili? I spoke it on the train ride here, but I've never even thought about learning it."

Nick hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose it might be possible to be magically influenced to learn. After all, you can magically cause someone to speak a different language. If it's possible to make someone speak it, it's not impossible to think that one could be made to understand it as well. Have you been hit by any spells lately, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I believe it may be inherited magic."

"Ah, yes, inherited magic is powerful, and considering that that field remains very much unexplored, the idea is not, as I said, impossible. I cannot say anything for certain, Harry, but yes, I believe it is possible to inherit a language through your magic. After all, magic is part of the entire body, including the brain. I believe they are studying the brain in the Ministry of Magic. But that field, just like inherited magic, remains widely unexplored."

Not for long, Harry thought. He realized that there were so many fields of magic that remained unexplored, even after this long. But he was going to change that. Merlin had said that he had limitless potential, and for Harry to start embracing who he was, and that's what Harry was going to do.

Harry was broken from his musings by an excited cry.

"Hiya, Harry!"

It was Colin Creevey, a third year to whom Harry was something of a hero.

"Hi, Colin," Harry said warily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"That's good," Harry said, nodding absently. He wasn't really paying too much attention to Colin, instead focusing on the first years that were lined up in front of the stool that they were going to sit on to be sorted. This was the first sorting outside his own that Harry had been to, so he was pretty interested in seeing it.

"He's really excited!" Colin said, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers

crossed, eh, Harry?"

"Mmhm," Harry mumbled, nodding. He turned back to Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick. "Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?" he said. He was judging by the Weasleys, all seven of whom had been put into Gryffindor.

"Oh no, not necessarily," Hermione said. "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"

The first years appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school, all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Harry recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.

Professor McGonagall now placed on the three-legged stool an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then, a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own house, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favorites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

'_Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Harry said, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," Ron said. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him. Harry caught a glimpse of Cho, the Ravenclaw Seeker, cheering Stewart Ackerley as he sat down. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange desire to join the Ravenclaw table too. Bah! Hormones!

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers. Harry could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. Harry wondered whether Baddock knew that Slytherin House had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed at Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming, a misleading impression, for Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide...

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" Colin said, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" Dennis said, as if nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, now sorting Emma Dobbs.

The sorting continued. Boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," Nick said as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"'Course it is, if you're dead," Ron snapped.

"Ron!" Harry objected, glaring lightly at his best friend. He could understand that Ron was grumpy, being hungry and all, because Harry was as well, but that was just rude. "Show some respect for the dead, please."

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," Nick said, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," Ron said, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate. He hadn't even seemed to heard Harry's request to show Nick some respect.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" Ron said loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

Nick watched mournfully as Harry, Ron, and Hermione loaded their own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," Ron said, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," Nick said. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" Harry asked through a sizable chunk of steak.

"Peeves, of course," Nick said, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast, well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council, and the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance, but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," Ron said darkly. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh the usual," Nick said, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits-"

Clang.

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.

"There are house-elves here?" she asked, staring, horror-struck, at Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," Nick said, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" Hermione said.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" Nick said. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning... see to the fires and so on... I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And... and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he asked, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," Ron said, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops... sorry, 'Arry..." He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," Hermione said, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor."

And she refused to eat another bite.

"Hermione," Harry said, smiling at his friend. If there was anything he liked the most about Hermione, it was her ability to care. "I'm sure that, if they asked for it, Dumbledore would definitely pay them, give them pensions and sick leaves. But they haven't asked for it. Why don't you just eat now, then ask Dumbledore to ask the house-elves if they want it tomorrow?"

But Hermione didn't want to listen.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Treacle tart, Hermione!" Ron said, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy, but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open. A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.

Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as if it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye, and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said brightly into the silence. "Professor

Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Moody?" Harry muttered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," Ron said in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred said loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er... but maybe this is not the time... no..." Dumbledore said,

"where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities, until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll ?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall. Many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age, that is to say, seventeen years or older, will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

Harry stood up immediately, and looked to Ron and Hermione. "You guys go on ahead. I'll be up later. I have to speak to Dumbledore."

Confused, but not asking questions, Ron and Hermione nodded and walked off with Fred and George, while Harry walked over to the Head Table. Dumbledore, who'd been in a conversation with Professor Moody, looked up when Harry approached, and smiled brightly.

"Ah, Harry! How good to see you again. Did you have a pleasant summer?"

"I did, Professor," Harry said with a smile, nodding. "Say, Professor, I was wondering if I could ask you something?" Dumbledore nodded and gestured for Harry to go on. "I've heard that you were a master in the arts of Magic Sense," Harry started, which caused Dumbledore's eyebrows to slowly rise up curiously, his eyes twinkling.

"That's right, Harry, I am, why?"

"Well, sir..." Harry scratched his head sheepishly, feeling weird about asking the headmaster this. "I was wondering... could you... teach me Magic Sensing?"

By now, the other teachers were staring at Harry as well. McGonagall looked very surprised. Then again, Harry had never shown himself to wish to learn more than he had to. Dumbledore's twinkle seemed to increase in power, showing his joy at hearing this.

"Harry, I am thrilled to hear that you wish to explore other areas of magic, but I am sorry to say that I will be far too busy this year to be able to teach you." Harry's hopes were shattered just then, and he couldn't quite hide the disappointment that shone in his eyes. Dumbledore, however, kept smiling. "However, Professor McGonagall also happens to be an excellent sensor. I have little doubt that she would have anything against teaching you. Isn't that right, Minerva?"

Dumbledore glanced at McGonagall, who surveyed Harry over her glasses, her lips pursed as usual.

"Not at all, not if Mr. Potter seriously wishes to learn?"

"I want to learn, Professor," Harry answered immediately, determination visible on his face. "It will help me greatly in the future."

"Very well, then, Mr. Potter. I will give you the time for our first lesson when I hand out your schedule tomorrow. We will discuss the details during the first lesson."

Harry felt a relieved smile break out on his face. "Thank you, Professor! Really!"

"Well then, Harry, I guess it's time for you to run off to bed," Dumbledore said, smiling just as brightly as Harry. "Off you go now, chop chop. The password for the Gryffindor Tower is Balderdash."

–

_Magic Sensing is a less known area of magic. With Harry being a magical sensor, he would hone his concentration, and put him more in touch with his own magic. This was but one goal that Harry had set for himself. That day, when Merlin visited him, Harry had vowed to himself that he would become powerful, and explore every aspect of magic that he could reach. He wished to unveil the secrets of magic, secrets that no one had unveiled before. This was not done out of a lust for power, as was the case with the Dark Lord Voldemort. No, it was a thirst for knowledge, a drive that kept him moving forward, a drive that kept him from going back to those depressing days, when he wished to be merely a regular boy. This was something he had come to accept as impossible, but the wish was still there, and he needed something to replace it with, until he had become accustomed to the thought of being more than anyone else._

–

**First chapter is finished! Woo! Review, please, and tell me what you think!**

**R&R**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, new chapter is up! Seeing as I have already finished the whole fic, I will be releasing these chapters at most every other day. Unlike my other fics, where I am currently experiencing some difficulties writing, you don't have to worry about waiting a year for me to update! Now, without further ado... adieu... ad... Er...**

**Just enjoy...**

–

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy. Heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited for McGonagall to show up with their schedules. As McGonagall reached Harry and handed him his schedule, he looked it over, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Uh, Professor?" he asked, blinking. "I think there's been a mistake. My Divination class isn't in here."

"Of course not, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said calmly. "As I know that you have no wish to continue that class, I have instead replaced it with our private lessons. These lessons count as an elective, and as such, I took the liberty of replacing Divination with our lessons, as it fit into my schedule. Was I wrong to do that?" McGonagall finished, her right eyebrow slowly rising. Immediately, Harry shook his head.

"Not at all, Professor. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. Remember, my office after lunch."

As McGonagall moved away, Harry was immediately assaulted with questions from Ron and Hermione.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, wide-eyed. "You're getting private lessons from McGonagall?"

"Harry, I know your Transfiguration isn't exactly above average, but do you really need extra lessons?" Hermione asked, and Harry shook his head.

"It's not Transfiguration," Harry said calmly as he continued eating his breakfast. "It's Magic Sensing lessons."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Magic Sensing? What's that?"

"I honestly don't know the exact details," Harry said with a shrug. "However, I have heard that it's just that; magic sensing. Apparently, the few who have mastered it can easily gauge an opponent's strength in a duel, among other things. I asked Dumbledore to teach me yesterday, but he'll be too busy this year, so he directed me to McGonagall, and she agreed to teach me."

"You got out of Divination?" Ron muttered, shaking his head. "You lucky sod... Private lessons with McGonagall should be a breeze compared to sitting through Trelawney's classes..."

"I doubt it," Harry said. "Apparently, Magic Sensing is very mentally challenging, and requires a boat load of concentration, concentration that I don't know if I have. Though I'll find out after lunch."

After lunch, as instructed, Harry knocked on McGonagall's door at the exact appointed time, hearing a "Come in," from inside. Harry opened the door and stepped inside, finding himself in McGonagall's office for the second time since he first arrived at Hogwarts. The office was small, but it would no doubt be enough. McGonagall, sitting behind her desk and looking over a piece of parchment, gestured for an empty chair across from her desk.

"Have a seat, Potter."

Harry nodded and walked over to the desk, sitting down in the rather comfortable, padded chair. Nodding as she finished reading the parchment, McGonagall looked up, giving Harry a piercing look.

"Potter, what do you know about Magic Sensing?"

Harry thought hard. "Well, I read that it's not very well known, and that can help the user sense magic, I'm guessing things as people's magical cores and such, which is very useful in dueling, Professor. But other than that, I don't know much else."

"Magic Sensing is like a magical probe. It's sending out a pulse of magic, which bounces off the magic that surrounds you, and comes back with information on the magic, such as, as you guessed, the size of magical cores, but advanced users can also determine the nature of the magic."

Harry hummed. "So, it's like advanced sonar?"

"Sonar?" McGonagall asked, obviously unfamiliar with the term.

"Muggles use it. It's something they learned from bats, who send out high-pitch sound waves that bounce off their surroundings and come back to their sensitive ears, determining location and movements of their surroundings."

McGonagall nodded. "Exactly. As with this sonar, Magic Sensing can also determine the location of the magic, which is very useful for when you encounter wards and curses, which are invisible." McGonagall gave Harry another piercing stare. "It is very difficult to learn, and to be able to do it in the blink of an eye requires a lot of work, and the training can be very straining on the mind. Are you sure you're ready for this, Potter?"

The determined look returned as Harry nodded. "I'm ready, Professor."

"Good," McGonagall said as she stood up. "Now, it's time to start. The first thing you need to do is close your eyes and relax." Harry did as he was told, letting his eyes drift close. "Now, I need you to concentrate, Potter. You need to focus on your magic. When you usually use magic, you don't have to concentrate on it, as that is what the wand if for, but you won't be using a wand for this. Therefore, you have to rely solely on your own will. So far, everyone who has searched for their core have found it in their chest. When you find your core, and concentrate hard enough, you should be feeling a warm sensation in your chest."

Harry concentrated hard, trying to find that warm feeling McGonagall was talking about, but even after five minutes of hard concentration, he still hadn't felt anything.

"I can't feel anything," Harry said, shaking his head, but keeping his eyes closed as instructed.

"Well, of course you don't," McGonagall said calmly, showing that he wasn't doing anything wrong. "If it was so easy that you could find your core in a mere five minutes, then many more people would be running around casting wandless magic easily."

This caused Harry's eyes to snap open, and he gave McGonagall a puzzled look. McGonagall seemed to know what he was going to ask.

"This training isn't just for Magic Sensing. The Magic Sensing is only one subject that branches from the exercise. Using this, people have been able to master many arts that requires great mental focus, such as silent casting, wandless magic, Magic Sensing, Legilimency and Occlumency."

"Legilimency? Occlumency?" Harry asked, blinking.

"That's for another time, Potter. Get back to concentrating," McGonagall said calmly, and Harry nodded, closing his eyes again.

Another forty-five minutes were spent in silence, with Harry concentrating as hard as he could. Then, in the blackness in front of him, he saw a sort of glow. It looked like someone was holding a candle in front of him, and he could only see it faintly through his eyelids.

"I see something," Harry said. "And... I-I think I feel something, too."

"Hold on, Potter," McGonagall said calmly. Then, Harry jumped when he felt the warm feeling that was starting to rise in his chest pulse. "Did you feel that?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Good. That means you are feeling your core, and you felt the pulse of magic I sent into it. That was very good, Potter. Most people need weeks to be able to sense their cores. I, myself, took four hours. I honestly didn't think you had this level of focus. I'm impressed. Now, we'll stop here for today. I want you to keep practicing for at least an hour before you go to bed every day. Next class, we will begin working on Sensing."

Harry nodded and stood up, smiling. "Good day, Professor."

"Good day, Potter."

And so, Harry started doing his new exercise each night. It was a good thing McGonagall told him to do it just before bed, because it really exhausted him, and left him feeling slow, as if he was stuck in a tar pit. He really got great sleep after the exercises, and he found himself waking up feeling more rested than he'd ever felt before, and his mind was a little more clear every day. He brought this up to McGonagall the next lesson.

"It is because your thoughts are clear, Potter," she explained. "Normally, your mind is always filled with stray thoughts about this and that, but with most of your concentration going to locating your core every night, you have begun to instinctively push away all other thoughts. This will also make learning easier, and will greatly improve your memory. But no more talk about that for now. Now, we will begin training your Sensing ability."

The days went by, and Harry, his head more clear than ever, had been studying more and more. On one Thursday evening, Harry sat in one of the comfortable leather chairs near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, looking through a book labeled, 'Magical Theory.' On the table between him and Ron, who was working on his Divination homework, were several books. Among them were 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection,' 'Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts,' 'Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science,' 'Extreme Incantations,' and 'Magical Draughts and Potions.'

Ron and Harry were the only ones there, and Harry had no intentions of going to bed for a while. Hermione showed up a few minutes later, holding a box filled with something, but Harry didn't pay much attention to it, or to what she was saying. He was studying and training. He'd been ordered by Professor McGonagall to practice finding his core while doing something else. It was exceedingly difficult to focus on finding it when most of his focus was dedicated to the book. Especially when he was reading about silent casting, which was very interesting to him. Though, according to McGonagall, finding his core like this would be one step closer to being able to use Magical Sensing instinctively.

"Harry!"

Harry was snapped out of his musings, and his head shot up when he heard Hermione. He was about to ask what she wanted, when she pointed toward the window, where a snow white owl was pecking the window.

"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed as he shot up, rushing over to pull open the window. Hedwig soared inside, perching herself on top Harry's books, hooting softly. "About time," Harry said, walking over and stroking Hedwig's head. "I was getting worried about you."

"She's got an answer!" Ron said excitedly, pointing at the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig's leg.

Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly and closing her eyes in bliss as Harry continued to pet her.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

The letter was very short, and looked as if it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

_Harry,_

_I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore. They're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is._

_I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry._

_Sirius._

"He's flying north?" Hermione asked. "He's coming back?"

"Looks that way," Harry said, nodding. He wasn't too worried. He knew Sirius could keep himself out of trouble. What worried him, however, was what Sirius had said. Reading the signs? Then it wasn't just paranoia on Harry's side. There was trouble brewing, and he had no doubt that it was centered around Harry.

–

_Indeed, trouble was brewing, for plans had been set in motions, plans centered around Harry himself. For it was spoken by Elvina, the Prime Oracle, that on his fifteenth summer, the Ninth would come into his power. He would bring change to the world. Whereas the other Primes did the same, the Ninth would bring about a great change. Elvina refused to say what kind of change he would bring, as it was not her place to tell. However, she knew the change, and therefore made plans for the boy. Plans that would help him fulfill his destiny._

_But Elvina wasn't the only one with plans. The Dark Lord Voldemort, obsessed, had concocted his own plans, centered around young Harry, for Harry was the one enemy he hated above all else, the one who had thwarted his plans and banished him not once, but twice, a feat that no other wizard or witch had ever accomplished before. Therefore, Harry was his target. Harry was the one who needed to be the one used in his plans. However, mad as the Dark Lord was, these thirteen years as little less than a spirit had taught him patience, and the Dark Lord had patience. So much, that he could foolproof his plans, and make sure everything happened exactly the way he wanted them._

–

_**TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**_

_**The delegations from Beauxbatons and**_

_**Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock**_

_**on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will**_

_**end half an hour early.**_

_**Students will return their bags and books**_

_**to their dormitories and assemble in front**_

_**of the castle to greet our guests before**_

_**the Welcoming Feast.**_

"Only a week away!" Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff said, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric?" Ron asked blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," Harry said. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" Ron asked with a scoff as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," Hermione said, huffing. "I've heard he's a really good student, and he's a prefect."

She spoke as if this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's handsome," Ron said scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" Hermione objected indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"

"And besides, Ron, I've heard that Cedric is a bloody good wizard," Harry said calmly, looking over the other notices on the noticeboard. "Susan Bones said that he won the Under-17 dueling tournament in Dublin last year."

Ron just scoffed, shaking his head.

The announcement had been spread around the school in a heartbeat. Pretty soon, the entire school was talking about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't bother talking about it much, however, as it hadn't even started yet, and they'd had their fair share of danger. Instead, they spent their days in the common room, studying and playing chess, among other things.

29th of October, they found themselves once more in the common room, and Harry and Hermione were discussing Hermione's organization, called S-P-E-W, something that Ron simply referred to as "Spew."

"Believe me, Hermione, as someone who has been worked to the bone like a house-elf, I can see where you're coming from," Harry said, reading one of his books. "But I just don't see how it's going to happen."

"Well, we free them, of course," Hermione said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "I came up with a plan to knit clothes, and leave them around in here for the house-elves."

"That's just cruel," Harry said, shaking his head. "I mean, these creatures are used to slavery. They love slavery. They'd just be devastated if they were suddenly set free. They have an amazing devotion to their masters."

"But it's cruel to-"

"I'm not telling you to not free them, Hermione," Harry interrupted. "But they'll need to get used to the idea of possibly being free before they are freed. Just look at me, Hermione. I was a slave at the Dursleys. And when I was told about everything, and was allowed to go to Hogwarts, away from them, I was terribly lost, with no idea of what to do with my new-found freedom."

"But you turned out alright!" Hermione complained.

"Yes, but I haven't been raised as a slave by parents who were slaves, who had parents who were slaves and so on and so forth. These creatures, unlike me, have been conditioned to be slaves. In order to free them, you must first free their minds, then their bodies. Once they wish for freedom, that's when you start working on really free them. They must want it. They cannot be forced."

Hermione blinked. Obviously, she had never expected Harry to be this smart. Harry smiled.

"Tell you what, why don't we go talk to Fred and George the day after tomorrow, and have them tell us how to get to the kitchens? That way, we can go there and meet the house-elves in person. In the meantime, you will hold off on trying to forcibly free them. Deal?"

"Deal!" Hermione said with a bright smile, shaking Harry's hand. She was obviously very happy that Harry wished for the same thing she did."

The 30th arrived, and when the bell rang early during Potions, Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried up to the Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall. Alright, so maybe Harry didn't do exactly as instructed. He'd brought one of his books with him, because he doubted that waiting would be any fun.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," McGonagall said. "First years in front... no pushing..."

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening. Dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Harry, standing between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from the front, saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," Ron said, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," Hermione said.

"Likewise," Harry said, nodding.

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate. Maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" Hermione asked impatiently.

Harry felt that this was an excellent time to try something. He closed the book he'd been reading, and closed his eyes, taking long, deep breaths. Then, he sent out a pulse of magic. As he felt the magic bounce back from all around him, he almost got a feel of the sizes of the magical cores of the people around him. The only ones he could feel clearly were Ron and Hermione, both of whom had above average sized cores. Smiling victoriously, Harry opened his eyes, to see Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore staring at him. Dumbledore looked impressed, as did McGonagall, while Snape looked somewhat shocked. No doubt, he'd never expected Harry to be able to grasp something so complicated.

Dumbledore gave Harry a wink, then went back to looking around, a smile blossoming on his face as he spotted something.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

The students all started looking around curiously, trying to find it.

"There!" a sixth year yelled, pointing over the forest. Something large, very large, was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward

the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" one of the first years shrieked, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid... it's a flying house!" Dennis Creevey exclaimed.

Dennis' guess was closer... As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powderblue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed. Then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Harry just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage, a shoe the size of a child's sled, followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever

seen in his life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Harry had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid. He doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow, maybe simply because he was used to Hagrid, this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face, large, black, liquid-looking eyes, and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap. The students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, barely had to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime said in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," Dumbledore said.

"My pupils," Madame Maxime said, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Harry, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.

From what Harry could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside

and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," Madame Maxime said. "But ze 'orses..."

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore said, "the moment he has returned

from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other, er, charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered to Harry, grinning.

"My steeds require, er, forceful 'andling," Madame Maxime said, looking as if she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Very well," Madame Maxime said, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore said, also bowing.

"Come," Madame Maxime said imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan asked, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

"I doubt they're going to be using flying horses," Harry said calmly. Having cleared his mind and actually taken to studying, he could see just why Hermione loved lecturing people so much. It was very enjoyable to flaunt your knowledge. "Abraxans can't live in the climate of northern Europe, where Durmstrang is rumored to be located."

Hermione beamed at Harry, obviously very happy that he'd been studying.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then...

"Can you hear something?" Ron asked suddenly.

Harry listened. A loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness, a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as if an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...

"The lake!" Lee Jordan yelled, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water, except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center. Great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks, and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool... and then Harry saw the rigging...

"It's a mast!" he said to Ron and Hermione.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as if it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking. They could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle... but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort, sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice. When he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling. His teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Harry caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn't need the punch on the arm Ron gave him, or the hiss in his ear, to recognize that profile.

"Harry, it's Krum!"

Harry nodded slowly as he stared at the famous Seeker. So Krum was still in school?

"I don't believe it!" Ron said in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione said.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione, he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

"Although I agree that he's a damn good player, I agree with Hermione," Harry said as he opened his book again and got back to reading. "He's just a Quidditch player, mate.

As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, Harry saw Lee jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked.

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me..."

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Really," Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," Ron said. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," Harry said, shaking his head. "But Ron, if you are gonna act like one of those fangirls back there, I would prefer it if you didn't sit next to me at dinner."

Hermione snorted, while Ron looked affronted at being compared to the girls who were still squabbling.

They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not that cold," Hermione said defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space..."

"What?"

"Too late," Ron said bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Harry could see Malfoy, Crabbe,

and Goyle looking very smug about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," Ron said scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time... Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

Hermione snorted.

"That's it," Harry said, gesturing for Ron to get out of his seat. "Off! Go sit elsewhere!"

"What?" Ron asked, blinking. "I'm not acting like-"

"You just said that you'd give him your bed if he chose to sleep in the Gryffindor Tower, Ron. And you look like you're about to explode from just looking at Krum," Harry said with a sigh. "If you're gonna behave like that, sit somewhere else. You're really disturbing my concentration," he said, waving his book in front of Ron's face, before going back to reading it.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Harry was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.

"But there are only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"Eh?" Ron said vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum, which made Harry shake his head and look to Hermione, who shrugged.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and

taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and, most particularly, guests," Dumbledore said, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore said. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops. There

was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione said.

"Bless you," Ron said.

"It's French," Hermione said, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there. Perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," Ron said quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," Harry said, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as if he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Harry.

"Of course she isn't!" Hermione said tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron said, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"Ron, mate, you gotta learn not to put your foot in your mouth like that," Harry said with a sigh, shaking his head. "Though I guess you're right. They don't make them like that at Hogwarts." Hermione looked shocked that Harry, of all people would say something like that. Harry winked at her, grinning. "They make them better," he said and slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Our girl has both looks _and_ smarts."

Hermione blushed at hearing this, and pried herself out of Harry's grip, clearing her throat. "Harry, look who's just arrived," she said in an attempt to change the subject, though Harry could tell that she'd been pleased to hear that.

She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" Harry said in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" Hermione said. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," there was a smattering of polite applause, "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students. Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his

head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore said, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

–

_The Triwizard Tournament started... The board had been set, and the pieces were moving. While young Harry was busy discovering his new-found potential, his ability to learn quickly, to adapt, to conquer, he was unaware of dangerous enemies moving against him, pulling him into what would become a dangerous game of death, a game that no one knew, not even the great Elvina herself, if he would survive._

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Bwahahaha! Chapter 3 is now up! Just so you know, the pairing won't be Harry/Hermione, nor will it be Harry/Fleur. It will be an OC, but this isn't a romance thing, so there won't be any lovey-dovey scenes or anything like that.**

**Enjoy!**

–

The following day, Harry and Hermione found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food. As Fred and George had instructed, they stood in front of a picture of a giant fruit bowl, and Harry stretched out his forefinger, and tickled a huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and the two entered.

Harry had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, "Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!"

Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break.

"D-Dobby?" Harry gasped.

"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" the voice squealed from somewhere around his navel. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

Dobby stepped back and beamed at Harry, staring up at him with his enormous eyes. He looked very different from when Harry had last seen him. When Dobby worked for the Malfoys, he wore an old pillowcase. Now, however, he was wearing a strange assortment of clothes. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he'd pinned a large amount of bright badges, a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's football shorts, and odd socks. One of them was Harry's old sock, which he'd tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving Dobby, and the other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

"Dobby, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"

"Winky?" Harry asked, blinking. "She's here?"

"Yes, sir, yes!" Dobby exclaimed, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him off into the kitchen between four long wooden tables that were positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, as lunch was finished, but he guessed that they would be filled with food soon, for dinner.

At least a hundred elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing and curtsying as Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied like a toga.

Dobby stopped in front of the fireplace and pointed.

"Winky, sir!"

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she actually had something of a sense for fashion, obviously, as she wore a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her ears. However, while Dobby's clothes were so clean that they looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care of her clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

"Hello, Winky," Harry said kindly, kneeling next to Winky.

Winky's lip quivered. Then, she burst into tears.

"Oh dear," Hermione said, looking distraught. "W-Winky, don't cry, please..."

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

"Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?" he squeaked, trying to be heard over Winky's sobs.

"Um..." Harry didn't know if he should, with Winky like this, but he nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dobby."

Instantly, about six house-elves came up to Harry, holding a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry and Hermione, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

"Oh, thank you," Harry said, smiling gratefully at the elves, who all beamed. "So, how long have you been here, Dobby?" he asked as he was handed a cup of tea by Dobby.

"Only a week, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby said happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed."

At this, Winky howled even harder, her nose dribbling all down her front, thought she made no effort to stem the flow.

"Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening in, turned away at those words, as if Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing.

"Good for you, Dobby," Hermione said with a smile.

"Thank you, miss!" Dobby said, grinning at her. "But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. 'That's not the point of a house-elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes to work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid, Harry Potter... Dobby likes being free!"

The house-elves were now edging away from Dobby, as if he was a leper. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume of her crying.

"And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!" Dobby said delightedly.

Now, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the stone floor, beating her fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped to her knees and tried to comfort her, but to no avail. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's crying.

"And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house-elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"

Dobby beamed brightly, and happy tears started welling up in his eyes.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"

"That's not very much!" Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming.

"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," Dobby said, suddenly giving a small shiver, "But Dobby beat him down, miss... Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

"Winky, calm down, please," Harry said, and was surprised when the crying elf did as she was told. "I have an idea, Dobby. How would you like to work for me?"

Dobby went wide-eyed at this, along with Hermione, who gasped.

"Harry Potter, sir, wishes for Dobby to work for him, sir?" Dobby asked in awe, as if Christmas had come early, and he'd found a mountain of presents waiting for him.

"I do," Harry said, nodding.

"But Harry Potter, sir, doesn't have enough work for a house-elf, sir!" Dobby objected, and Harry grinned. Then, he looked to Hermione.

"Hermione, ears please?"

Hermione blinked, but complied anyhow, covering her ears with her hands to ensure she didn't hear anything. Harry leaned in toward the elf.

"I may not have a lot of work for a house-elf yet, but I am planning to, in the near future... raise Avalon."

A simultaneous gasp went through the kitchen, as every house-elf who had been listening in heard it. Harry noticed that Hermione felt very tempted to listen in.

"B-But Harry Potter, sir! Avalon is a myth!"

"A myth that I will prove is real," Harry said, nodding. "So, what do you say? Do you want to work for me? I'll pay you, if that's what you want."

"Dobby would be honored to work for Harry Potter, sir!"

"That's great, Dobby!" Harry said, patting Dobby on the shoulder. "Now, do you want to tell Dumbledore about this, or should I?"

"Dobby can do it, Harry Potter. Dobby is sad to leave the kitchen, but Dobby is happy to get to work for Harry Potter, sir!"

"Oh, don't worry, Dobby. I'm sure that, until I get my own place, Dumbledore will let you keep working here."

Dobby beamed.

–

You could almost taste the excitement in the air. The Halloween feast had started. The Great Hall was decorated for Halloween, as it was every year. A cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.

Among the hundreds of excited students, though, was Harry, who was not so excited. Sure, he would enjoy seeing the Triwizard Tournament, but he was much more interested in working on his own skills, rather than seeing someone use theirs. It was much more rewarding. That's why, while everyone were staring at the Goblet of Fire, which had been moved to stand in front of Dumbledore's chair at the Head Table, Harry had his nose buried in yet another book, Quintesse: A Quest. Professor Flitwick had suggested Harry read it, even though it was a sixth year book. It was a very informative book, going deeper into the do's and don't's of silent charmwork, among other things.

Humming, Harry took out his wand and stared at his goblet. Focusing, he swished and flicked his wand. A huge smile broke out on his face as his goblet started to slowly rise. So, he'd managed to do something he was supposed to learn in sixth year. Smiling, Harry let his goblet down again, setting it down on the table and releasing the charm. He caught Dumbledore's eye, and was rewarded with an approving smile and nod. It was always pleasing for Harry to see Dumbledore's twinkling eyes.

As the everyone had finished eating, and the plates were cleared, there was a great increase in the volume of the noise around him, which died away instantly as Dumbedore rose to his feet. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various student, while Crouch, however, looked uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he said, gesturing for the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it. At once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semi-darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluish-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting... A few people kept checking their watches.

Harry, giving up on trying to read his book in the darkness, closed it and looked up at the Goblet along with everyone else.

The flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red again. Sparks began to fly from it, and the next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttering out of it. The whole Hall gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum!"

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Harry saw Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up to Dumbledore. He turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door to the next chamber.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore read, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

"Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, Harry thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more. Sparks showered out of it, the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The uproar from the next table was too great for Harry to hear anything except applause and cheers. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out, "Harry Potter."

A thud was heard through the shocked silence that filled the Hall, as Harry's forehead impacted with the table.

–

_And so, the game of death was afoot. This story, which follows Harry's long journey to vanquish the Dark Lord Voldemort once and for all, was started by a small slip of parchment, being spewed out of a flaming goblet. You can imagine Harry's shock when he heard his name called out. After all, it's not every day you are chosen to be a champion in the Triwizard Tournament, especially when you didn't put in your name. So it came to a great shock to Harry._

_Feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders, Harry walked through the Great Hall, feeling the stares of everyone there on him. It was not easy, and Harry knew that, without a doubt, he would be ostracized for 'cheating.' As per usual, the students would believe the worst, and they would hate Harry for it, just like they did in Harry's second year, where they believed that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin._

–

Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of of witches and wizards. A fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him. The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache, whereupon she started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. Fleur looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do zey want us back in ze 'All?"

She thought he'd come to deliver a message? Harry just shook his head to himself as he walked further into the room, and sat down in a leather chair in the corner, where he sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. There was a sound of scurrying feet, and Bagman entered the room.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... lady," he added, approaching the fire and addressing the other three. "May I introduce, incredible though it may seem, the _fourth_ Triwizard champion?"

Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again, as if sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered, and Fleur frowned.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

"Well... it is amazing," Bagman said, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It's down in the rules, you're obliged... Harry will just have to do the best he-"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Dumbledore, followed closely by Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, McGonagall, and Snape. Harry heard the murmuring of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis leetle boy is to compete also!"

That familiar muscle under Harry's left eye gave a twitch when he heard this. Little boy? Has this girl ever battled and killed a Basilisk? I think not, Harry thought contemptuously as he glared at Fleur's back.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions, or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He gave a short and nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," Madame Maxime said, her enormous hand with its many superb opals resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape said softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here-"

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.

Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly.

"No," Harry said. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring Snape.

"No," said Harry vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madame Maxime. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"Why would I willingly put myself in mortal danger?" Harry asked in confusion. "I've had my fair share of it already, and I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect of risking my life for a stupid cup and a thousand Galleons. For a friend, maybe, but not something as fleeting as that!"

With his piece said, Harry buried his face in his hands again. Couldn't he have just _one_ normal school year? Especially this year, when he was truly dedicated to his studying... He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up in surprise, to see that McGonagall had moved over to stand next to him, showing her support, and that she believed in him, for which he was truly grateful.

The rest went by in a blur for Harry. The adults were arguing, Madame Maxime and Karkaroff were yelling at Dumbledore, and Moody somehow came in sometime during the argument, suggesting that someone might be trying to kill Harry (big surprise there).

Before Harry knew it, everyone had left the room, save for Harry, Cedric and Dumbledore.

"Well, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry and Cedric. "I am sure Hufflepuff is waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise. Harry," Dumbledore's smile faded a little, and he looked a bit more serious than he had a few seconds earlier, "I would like you to accompany me to my office, if you would?"

Harry sighed deeply, nodding. "Yes, sir..."

Cedric gave a small bow of his head to Dumbledore, and a wave to Harry, before leaving the room. Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder and led him out, and the two started a quiet walk toward Dumbledore's office. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed Dumbledore glancing at him every now and then. They reached the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, and Dumbledore spoke the password.

"Pepper Imp."

The gargoyle jumped to the side, revealing the spiraling staircase leading up to Dumbledore's office. The two stepped onto it, and it moved slowly upward as the door closed behind them, taking them up to a polished oak door with a brass knocker. They stepped off the moving staircase and headed into Dumbledore's office, which Harry had seen a few times in the past years.

"Please, Harry, have a seat," Dumbledore said as he gestured for one of the chairs in front of his desk, while he moved around it to sit down in his own chair. Harry did as he was told, and Dumbledore rested his elbows against the desk, steepling his fingers and peering at Harry over his half-moon glasses. "Do you trust me, Harry?"

"With my life, sir," Harry answered immediately.

"I'm touched, Harry," Dumbledore said, a smile appearing on his face. "Then, you do not mind if I ask you... did something happen over the summer, my boy?"

Harry blinked and hesitated. He cleared his throat. "Happen, sir?"

"Harry, I am a very accomplished magical sensor. Throughout this year, I have sensed your core rapidly growing larger and larger. I know that something happened, and I would like to know why, if you wish to share," Dumbledore said.

Harry thought for a few seconds, then nodded. "I'm a Prime, sir."

Dumbledore blinked. He seemed to be thinking hard. Then, his eyes widened. "And by Prime, are you referring to the five powerful wizards and witches who called themselves the Primes of Merlin?"

Harry nodded. "That's them," he said. "But there aren't five of them, sir. I'm the last, the Ninth."

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "The Ninth? I was under the impression that there were only five."

"Well, two of them didn't feel like flaunting their status as Primes, and the Eighth doesn't even know that he is one, and it's imperative that he doesn't find out. It's when you learn that you're a Prime that the powers you inherited from Merlin unlocks."

"Do you know who the Eighth is?" Dumbledore asked curiously, leaning forward. Harry nodded.

"Voldemort."

Dumbledore gasped. "Voldemort? Are you sure?"

Harry nodded again. "Merlin made a prophesy, stating that each Prime would bring great change to the world. In a way, Voldemort did. He united all the good people against him.

"This is... most disturbing news, Harry..." Dumbledore said, his brow furrowing. "The Primes recorded have claimed to be the heirs of Merlin's magic. Are you saying that Voldemort is an heir as well?"

Harry once more nodded. "He was granted the third largest piece of Merlin's magic, while the First Prime received the second largest, and I got the largest. But instead of that, I'd like to talk to you about something, Professor."

Dumbledore perked up at that, his eyebrow raising in curiosity. "What's on your mind, Harry?"

"This summer, I had a dream," Harry said. "Voldemort was in the dream, along with Wormtail. They were talking about something, I don't remember the whole dream, but I remember Voldemort talking about Bertha Jorkins, one more murder, and, the most alarming thing to me, his loyal servant at Hogwarts. He also spoke the words, 'Harry Potter is as good as mine.'"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of his face again, humming. "This servant... did he say anything about them?"

"No, sir. He merely referred to them as his loyal servant. Normally, I would suspect Snape, but-"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected gently, amusement in his voice.

"Sorry, sir. Normally I would suspect Professor Snape, but it's never turned out to be true whenever I've suspected him in the past."

"As it should. Harry, what I am about to tell you, I tell you because I trust you, and I ask that you never repeat this to anyone."

Harry nodded. "I won't, sir."

"Professor Snape was once a Death Eater," Dumbledore said, which made Harry go wide-eyed. "However, he rejoined our side before the downfall of Voldemort, and turned spy for us at great personal risk. He is no more a Death Eater than I am, and I hope you can understand that. Please, look past his exterior and see what Professor Snape is on the inside."

Because that was exactly what Snape was doing to him, Harry thought sarcastically, suppressing a snort. However, he nodded, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Now, Harry, I would like to talk to you about something, my boy. These dreams are a clear sign that your connection to Voldemort runs deeper than I had initially believed," Dumbledore said gravely. "You can see into Voldemort's mind, and as with all connections, it is no doubt a, as the Muggles say, two-way street."

Harry gulped, realizing what Dumbledore was saying. "You mean... Voldemort can see inside my mind?"

"I don't think he realizes the connection himself... yet..." Dumbledore hummed as he got up, pacing up and down behind his desk. "Harry, I know I said that I'll be incredibly busy this year, but I was wondering if you would consent to having private lessons with me?"

"Lessons, sir?" Harry asked, blinking. "In what?"

"You are a little young, but I feel that it is necessary for you to learn Occlumency and Legilimency."

Harry's eyes widened. "Occlumency and Legilimency, sir? Professor McGonagall has talked about it, but she hasn't explained to me what it is yet."

"Occlumency is the act of magically closing one's mind against Legilimency. It can prevent a Legilimens from accessing one's thoughts and feelings, or influencing them. And Legilimency is the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings. A person who practices this art is known as a Legilimens. Laymen sometimes refer to Legilimency as 'mind-reading,' but though it could be called that, it is much more complex," Dumbledore explained, and Harry felt an excitement building up inside him. As Dumbledore had said, it was a two-way street... If Voldemort could use this Legilimency to dig into Harry's mind, then Harry could...

"I'm glad you understand why I wish to teach you both," Dumbledore said happily, his eyes twinkling. Harry's eyes widened. Had Dumbledore just used Legilimency on him? "So, are you interested in learning this, Harry?"

Immediately, Harry nodded without hesitation. "Of course, sir! I'd be honored to have you teaching me."

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said, smiling brightly. "Then I will see you here in my office shall we say... tomorrow after dinner?"

Harry nodded. "I'll be here, sir."

Dumbledore nodded back then dug out a very strange pocket watch from his pocket and looked at it. "Oh dear, look at the time! I'm afraid I've been keeping you up longer than I should have, Harry, and for that I apologize. You should head off to bed."

Harry got out of the chair and walked over to the door leading out of Dumbledore's office. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry thought hard on his way back to the common room. A lot was happening at once, it seemed. Harry's name in the Goblet, the dream, Sirius' return, Dumbledore offering to teach Harry Legilimency and Occlumency... Obviously, Dumbledore and Sirius, just like Harry, were reading the signs that something big was going to happen, and Harry wasn't sure if he'd get out of this one...

When he got to the portrait in front of the common room, the Fat Lady wasn't the only one sitting in her frame. The wizened old witch from the room behind the Great Hall was sitting next to her, looking smug.

"Well, well, well," the Fat Lady said, looking Harry over. "Violet's told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champion, then?"

"Balderdash," Harry said, wanting nothing more than to go to bed.

"It most certainly isn't!" the pale witch cried indignantly.

"No, no, Vi, it's the password," the Fat Lady said calmly, and swung forward to let Harry into the common room.

Harry was met with a deafening blast of noise when the portrait opened. Next thing he knew, Harry was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding and whistling.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" Fred yelled, looking half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard?" George yelled. "Brilliant!"

"I didn't," Harry denied. "I don't know how-"

But Angelina swooped down on him before he could finish. "Oh, if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor!"

"You'll be able to pay Diggory back for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" Katie Bell shrieked.

"We've got food, Harry, come have some-"

"I don't... I..." Harry tried to get a word out, but no one was listening. They were all badgering Harry with questions on how he got by Dumbledore's Age Line. Finally, Harry got tired of everything and made his way through the crowd to stand up on a table. Subconsciously drawing on his magic, Harry let loose a sharp whistle, which caused most of the Gryffindors to cringe, covering their ears to escape the noise.

Cutting off his whistle, Harry spoke to the now silent crowd, "I didn't put my name in the goblet, alright? I have no idea who did. Cedric is the real Hogwarts champion. I'm just along for the ride because of a stupid binding magical contract that I can't escape. Now, I'm tired, pretty damn shook up from the shock of being entered, so there is a chance I may start hexing the next person who ignores my words and believes that I entered myself, which I didn't!"

These words stunned most of the crowd, judging by the very amusing expressions of fish on land that most of them were making. Harry ignored them, though, and hopped off the table, pushing his way through the crowd and heading up the stairs to the dormitory.

When Harry entered the dormitory, he found Ron lying on his bed, fully dressed. He looked up when Harry slammed the door behind him.

"Oh, hello," Ron said, grinning, but it was a very odd, strained grin. Harry made the connection immediately, not needing to be a Legilimens to detect what Ron was feeling and thinking.

"Oh, Merlin, don't tell me you believe that I put my name in the goblet, too?" Ron's look said it all. "Look, I didn't put my name in, alright? Someone else did it."

"And why would they do that?" Ron asked, and it was clear in his voice that he didn't believe Harry.

"Maybe to see me die a horrible, gruesome death?" Harry suggested.

Both of Ron's eyebrows shot up.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth," he said. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either..."

"I didn't put my name in that goblet!" Harry yelled, glaring at Ron.

"Yeah, okay," Ron said in a very skeptical tone. "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you... I'm not stupid, you know."

"Oh really?" Harry asked, faking surprise. "You sure could've fooled me with this act."

"Yeah?" Ron said, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

He wrenched the hangings shut around his four-poster, leaving Harry standing there by the door, staring at the dark red velvet curtains, now hiding one of the few people he had been sure would believe him.

–

_And so another one of Elvina's predictions came true, as they always had. 'And He will be betrayed by one He would trust with His life.' It came as a great shock to Harry that his best friend in the whole world would disbelieve him! Though, in a way, he was relieved. It showed Harry that despite his loyalty to Ronald, Ronald's loyalty was not quite that strong. Thus, Harry experienced his first feeling of betrayal, an even that opened his eyes, and changed him forever._

_When he woke up the following morning, Harry didn't, understandably, feel any reason to go on. Ronald's betrayal had hurt him so much, that it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. Luckily, however, there was one who stood by him, only one who believed that he hadn't put his name in the goblet. I am talking, of course, about his other best friend, Hermione._

–

_Dear Sirius,_

_You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes... You've probably heard from Dumbledore already, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff._

_Hope you're okay, as well as Buckbeak,_

_Harry._

"How's this?" Harry asked, showing the letter to Hermione as they stood in the Owlery. Hermione looked the letter over and nodded. At once, Hedqig came fluttering down onto his shoulder and held out her leg. Harry felt a bit ashamed of himself as he stroked the feathers on Hedwig's head.

"I'm sorry, love, but I can't use you..." he said sadly. "Your beauty is much too noticeable, so unless you want to take the long way and stay hidden, I have to do as Sirius said and use a school owl..."

Hedwig hooted and held out her leg even further, giving Harry an almost scathing look. Conceding, Harry smiled and tied it to her leg. Once he had, Hedwig hopped down onto Harry's and so that he could pet her easier.

"You'll stay hidden, won't you?"

Hedwig hooted softly and nibbled on Harry's finger, before taking off. Harry sighed. He really hoped she'd stay hidden.

The rest of the day was spent avoiding the rest of the school, because Harry was in no mood to endure a bunch of stares, and soon enough, dinner was finished, which found Harry standing in front of the gargoyle blocking the stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"Pepper Imps," Harry spoke, but went wide-eyed when the gargoyle didn't move.

"Ah, Harry!" came the merry voice of Dumbledore from behind him. Harry turned, to see the Headmaster's twinkling eyes staring down at him. "I'm terribly sorry I didn't tell you, but I changed the password this morning. The password is now Cockroach Cluster." The gargoyle hopped to the side, and the two got on the staircase.

Once the two entered Dumbledore's office, they didn't take their usual seats.

"Come here, Harry," Dumbledore said, waving his wand as he stood in the middle of the office. Tables, chairs and scattered books and parchments were pushed away to form a circle of around ten feet in diameter. Harry walked over to Dumbledore and stood in front of him, wondering what was going to happen next.

"Now, Harry, Legilimency is a powerful mind magic utilized with a wand or eye contact, depending, of course, on your level of proficiency. I am a quite accomplished Legilimens, so I will do this without my wand at first."

"Without it, sir? Why?"

"Because we are going to start off easy, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "If I use my wand, I may use a too powerful attack for you to defend yourself against at this stage. Now, we shall begin your Occlumency lessons. Legilimency comes after. Now, close your eyes and relax. Find your core."

Harry did as he was told, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His lessons with McGonagall had truly paid off. Now, he was able to find his core in just a second. He nodded, to show Dumbledore that he had found it.

"Now, I want you to visualize an impenetrable layer of steel around it."

Harry nodded, but after a few seconds, his brow furrowed. "Sir?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Why the core, sir? I mean, this is against mental attacks, isn't it?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm glad you asked, Harry. It is because, though Legilimency is a mind magic, it is still magic, and all magic affecting a human body must do so via the magical core. A Legilimency probe must first enter the core, then start sifting through memories and thoughts. Are you building, my boy?"

"I am, sir," Harry said as he felt a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he focused on that shining ball of light inside himself. "But it's so big, so it's difficult..."

"Quite understandable. The bigger your core is, the harder it will be to defend it. That is why the most powerful of wizards train both their minds and magical prowess."

For five minutes, they stood in silence. Five minutes that felt like two hours for Harry, as he built a mental layer of steel around his core.

"I'm done," Harry said, and he could tell by just the atmosphere that Dumbledore was delighted.

"Well done, Harry! Now, I shall use a low-level Legilimency probe on you. Please, open your eyes, Harry."

Slowly, Harry's eyelids opened, and his eyes locked with Dumbledore's. Immediately, he felt that soul-piercing stare. But this time, it didn't affect him as it usually did. Usually, he felt like there was never really anything out of the ordinary, but he now felt like someone was tapping on his magical core, almost like when he received his magical pulses back with his sensing ability, but this felt like it was demanding entrance, he supposed was the best explanation for it. Blatantly rejecting the feeling, he felt it increase in strength, and it had now gone from gentle knocking to a strong pounding. Harry suddenly went wide-eyed when he felt the protective layer around his core crumbling.

Harry stumbled back when he felt the connection break, and he shook his head, trying to shake the uneasy feeling left after feeling the probe inside his core.

"Splendid, Harry!" Dumbledore said jovially, clapping his hands. "You truly are a natural at this! That was a probe around the level of a normal Legilimens. That is the level of probing you will be shielding yourself against from now on, and once you can protect yourself against it, we will step it up, and at the same time work on adding a second layer to your core. I, myself, am up to forty-three layers." Noticing that Harry was panting slightly, Dumbledore's smile faded, and was replaced by a concerned look. "Are you alright, my boy?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "Let's try again."

And so, the grueling training begun again. Harry built up his defenses, and they were quickly smashed by Dumbledore. But humiliating defeat wasn't all Harry got. He felt how he became better and better at making his shield stronger, and how he could build it up much faster. By the end of the first lesson, Harry could withstand the probe of a normal level wizard, but as soon as Dumbledore upped the power in his attacks, he easily smashed through Harry's defenses.

"You're doing very good, Harry," Dumbledore praised at the end of the lesson, when a panting Harry dropped into his usual chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. "I had not expected you to take to Occlumency so quickly. I am very impressed."

"Yeah..." Harry panted, wiping sweat off his brow. "I didn't think I'd be able to do it so quickly, either..."

"We shall stop here for today, and continue on Tuesday, at the same time. Is that okay for you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as he sat down in his chair behind the desk. Harry nodded. "Well then, off you go, my boy. Get some well-earned rest."

"I will," Harry said as he weakly got up and made his way toward the door. "Good night, Professor."

"Good night, Harry. Ah, wait, my boy!" Harry froze in the middle of opening the office door, and turned back to Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow. Dumbledore reached into his desk and took out something that glinted silver in the light from the candles, and tossed it to Harry, whose Seeker instincts caused him to reach out and grab it.

"What's this?" Harry asked as he looked over the thing Dumbledore had thrown him. It was a signet ring, silver, which had an onyx dragon on it.

"That is a ring," Dumbledore said, stating the obvious as his eyes twinkled. "However, it is a very special ring. I came across it in Pemba in my youth. It is said that ring once belonged to Merlin himself. I feel that it's proper for you to wear it."

Harry's eyes were wide as he looked over the ring. Then, he slipped it onto his right ring finger. The ring was too big, but as soon as it was in place, the band shrunk, fitting itself around Harry's finger. Harry looked back at the headmaster.

"Thank you, sir. Really."

"You're welcome, Harry. Off to bed you go now. Pip pip!"

–

Double Potions was always horrible, but these days, it was torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with Snape and the Slytherins, all of whom seemed determined to punish Harry as much as possible for daring to become school champion, was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine. He had already struggled through one Friday's worth, and it was only thanks to his Occlumency training that he was capable of restraining himself from lashing out. He was extremely grateful to Dumbledore for choosing to teach Harry when he did.

When Harry and Hermione arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes. They all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burned brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

'Support Cedric Diggory – The Real Hogwarts Champion!'

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy asked loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do. Look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:

'Potter Stinks!'

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges, too, until the message was shining brightly all around Harry.

Harry nearly attacked, but managed to put up his Occlumency shield, blocking out his negative emotions, and focusing on not showing any of them.

"Oh, _very_ funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Sltherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone. "Really witty."

"Want one, Granger?" Malfoy asked, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see. Don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

With a deadly calm, Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

"Harry!" Hermione said warningly.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now. Do it, if you've got the guts."

For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, and then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

"Furnunculus!" Harry yelled.

"Densaugeo!" Malfoy screamed.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles. Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed out and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up. Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth. Malfoy, who obviously believed that they'd only throw one spell, was completely unprepared for the second spell from Harry, which hit him in the face.

As Malfoy fell to his knees, clutching his face, Harry turned toward Hermione, pulling her hands away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth, already larger than average, were now growing at an alarming rate. She was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin. Panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" came a calm, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations, and Snape pointed to Malfoy.

"Explain."

Malfoy, however, had a very difficult time speaking, as his lips had grown to the size of sweet potatoes, making for a very comical sight. The Gryffindors gathered would have laughed, had Snape not been there. Snape, realizing that Malfoy had a hard time talking, due to the fact that his lips were too heavy to move, looked to Pansy, who was eager to explain.

"Potter attacked Draco, sir-"

"We attacked each other at the same time," Harry said calmly.

"-and he hit Draco and Goyle! Look!"

Snape took another look at Malfoy, then examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Malfoy, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione," Harry said. "Look."

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth. She was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficlt, as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper. Her eyes filled with tears, then she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

"Let's see," Snape said silkily. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and a detention for an unprovoked attack on Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Goyle."

Harry glared at Snape, clutching his wand tightly. Snape's eyebrow slowly rose.

"Wand away, Potter."

Harry wouldn't just let this one go. Not anymore... Shivering with rage, Harry put his wand away and turned his back on Snape, walking off the way Hermione had run.

"Get back here, Potter!" Snape called. "Another fifty points from Gryffindor, and a week's detention!"

Harry just ignored him and kept walking. Walking all the way to Dumbledore's office.

"Cockroach Cluster!" Harry said angrily as he stood in front of the gargoyle, which hopped to the side as usual. He got on the revolving staircase and headed up, then knocked a little harder on Dumbledore's door than he usually would have.

"Come in."

Harry slammed open the headmaster's door, and saw a surprised-looking Dumbledore behind his desk, blinking.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as Harry marched up to his desk.

"Sir, I'm gonna say this as respectfully as I can..." Harry muttered as he slammed his hands down on Dumbledore's desk. "I refuse to stand for anymore of Snape's bloody bullying! If this continues, I am going to curse his greasy hair off and make him eat it, one hair at a time!"

"And what has Professor Snape done to warrant such a colorful threat?" Dumbledore asked, and his voice, though serious, had a hint of amusement to it.

"He has gone too far this time!" Harry hissed. He then told Dumbledore the story of what happened in the dungeons. "And then, he had the nerve to tell me that he saw no difference in Hermione's teeth! She has always been a little self-conscious about her front teeth, and that was just evil! Then he took fifty points off from me and gave me a detention for attacking Malfoy unprovoked, which is completely untrue! And then he took fifty more points when I walked away to come here, and gave me a week's worth of detentions!"

Dumbledore hummed as he steepled his fingers in front of his face.

"That is very serious, Harry. I give back the hundred points he took from Gryffindor, and I retract the detentions. However, I must stress how important it is for you to exercise control. With your magical core as big as it is, you are lucky you didn't seriously wound Mr. Malfoy." Harry's eyes widened. He wasn't going to do anything about Snape? Obviously sensing Harry's thoughts, Dumbledore continued, "And I will also have a long talk with Professor Snape. I assure you that this will never happen again. I may overlook most things when it comes to students and teachers alike, but bullying at this level is unacceptable."

Harry nodded, and said a quick goodbye to Dumbledore, then turned and walked over to the door.

"Harry, wait a moment," Dumbledore said, stopping Harry. "You may as well come with me." Harry was about to turn around, but then felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder. "The champions are to take part in a wand weighing ceremony, which will take place in about thirty minutes. I am going to head over there now. Would you like to come with me?"

Go with Dumbledore, or go to Potions? The choice was easy, so Harry immediately nodded to Dumbledore, who seemed to know why he agreed so quickly, as his eyes were twinkling madly.

–

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore said as they stood outside the classroom where the weighing of the wands would take place, "I feel I should warn you about a certain individual that you will meet inside. Rita Skeeter."

"Skeeter?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow. "Isn't she a reporter for the Daily Prophet, sir?"

"Indeed she is," Dumbledore nodded. "She has a habit of developing her articles from just a few words, and writes enchantingly nasty lies and half-truths. I warn you not to end up alone with her."

"I'll stay with you, then," Harry said, to which Dumbledore nodded again, obviously thinking that was a good idea. With that, they headed inside.

They were in a fairly small classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle. Three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to a witch Harry had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes. Probably that Skeeter woman.

Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody, while Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far. She kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye.

Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! Dumbledore," he greeted with a nod, enthusiastically shaking both Harry and Dumbledore's hands with a great big smile on his face. "The expert is waiting for you in the entrance hall."

"I shall go get him, then," Dumbledore said with a smile, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Remember what I said, Harry."

Harry nodded as Dumbledore left the room, and Bagman gestured for the witch in magenta robes.

"Harry, this is Rita Skeeter. She's doing a small piece on the tournament for the Daily Prophet!"

"Maybe not that small, Ludo," Rita Skeeter said, her eyes on Harry.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles, and the thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?" she asked Bagman, but still gazing fixedly at Harry. "The youngest champion, you know, to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" Bagman cried. "That is, if Harry has no objection?"

"Where?" Harry asked, making sure to stay on his guard. He really didn't like the looks of this woman.

"Oh, somewhere private, of course."

"No," Harry answered immediately. "I want Professor Dumbledore present if we do."

"Oh, don't be silly, dear," Skeeter said, and in a second, her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harry's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip. However, as she tried to steer him out of the room, Harry remained firm, not budging.

"I'd rather not, miss Skeeter," Harry said, putting up his Occlumency shields and gazing coldly at Skeeter.

"Oh, come now, Harry, it's not that bad-"

"Is there a problem?" Skeeter went wide-eyed when she heard the voice and turned around.

"Dumbledore!" she cried, with every appearance of delight as she saw Dumbledore standing behind her, with an old man that Harry recognized immediately. "How are you?" she asked, holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards' Conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

Skeeter didn't look remotely abashed.

"I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street-"

"I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita," Dumbledore interrupted with a courteous bow and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start."

Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry did as Dumbledore told him and sat down in one of the chairs near the door, where the others joined him, Cedric sitting next to him, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting, Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman. Skeeter settled herself down in a corner, and Harry saw her slip a parchment out of her bag, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the and acid-green quill, and place it on the parchment.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore said, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Mr. Ollivander was now standing quietly by the window, looking very peaceful.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" Mr. Ollivander said, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hm..."

He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing... dear me..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur said. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron... then he remembered that Ron wasn't speaking to him.

"Yes," Mr. Ollivander said, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands... however, to each his own, and if this suits you..."

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps. Then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," Mr. Ollivander said, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. "Mr. Diggory, you next."

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" Mr. Ollivander asked with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands. Nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches... ash... pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition... You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," Cedric said, grinning.

Harry looked down at his own wand. He could see finger marks all over it. Practicing some very basic wandless magic, Harry blew on the wand once, and it was as if he had put eight hours of polishing into that single puff, because the wand was now flawless, and almost sparkling. Harry didn't know that Scourgify charms worked on wands.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, "Mr. Krum, if you please."

Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duckfooted, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," Mr. Ollivander said, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... however..."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," Mr. Ollivander said, handing Krum back his wand. "Which leaves... Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr. Ollivander, handing over his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," Mr. Ollivander said, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition. Then, he said something that made everyone's eyes widen.

"Mr. Potter," he said, catching Harry's attention as he was putting his wand back in his robes, "I would like you to come to me the moment your wand starts heating up when you use it. Your magical core appears to be much too large for a normal wand to handle. I think, yes, that it is about time for you to invest in a staff."

Stunned by this statement, Harry merely nodded and walked back to his chair, sitting down. He felt very uncomfortable, feeling the stares of most everyone in the room on him.

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said suddenly, standing up at the judges' table to catch everyone's attention. "You may go back to your lessons now, or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end..."

Feeling that at last something had gone right today, Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black camera jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Bagman cried excitedly. "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er, yes, let's do those first," Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again, said, nodding. "And then perhaps some individual shots."

The photographs took a long time. Madame Maxime cast everyone else into shadow wherever she stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get her into the frame. Eventually she had to sit while everyone else stood around her. Karkaroff kept twirling his goatee around his finger to give it an extra curl. Krum, whom Harry would have thought would have been used to this sort of thing, skulked, half-hidden, at the back of the group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Fleur at the front, but Skeeter kept hurrying forward and dragging Harry into greater prominence. Then she insisted on separate shots of all the champions.

At last, they were free to go, and Harry couldn't have been happier. It was just annoying that he'd have to go to Dumbledore's office after dinner to work on his Occlumency.

–

_The Occlumency training and Magic Sensing training was coming along nicely for Harry. His skills were increasing, and so were his grades, thanks to his newfound ability to clear his mind, which let him memorize things more easily, something that most people didn't even think of. After all, it is incredibly hard to remember something if your mind is already filled with thoughts._

_Another good thing was that Harry had received a letter from Sirius, who had requested that he be by the fire in Gryffindor Tower on November 22nd. Hedwig had pecked Sirius mercilessly when she heard him get upset with Harry for using her._

_However, not all was well. The First Task was approaching, and Harry had no idea what it was, no idea what to prepare for..._

_The first Hogsmeade weekend came on November 22nd as well, and Harry and Hermione went to the Three Broomsticks to relax. When they got there, however, they met Mad-Eye Moody and Hagrid. Hagrid asked Harry to meet him at midnight at Hagrid's hut, which would leave Harry only one hour to do what Hagrid wanted him to do, and get back up to the castle to meet with Sirius._

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Extra long chapter, guys! I decided that since there will be a lot of skipping in this, it was for the best if I gave you a longer chapter. Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! And remember to review! Review, review, review! Nom nom nom! I love reviews!**

**Enjoy!**

–

The grounds were very dark. Harry, covered by his Invisibility Cloak, walked down the lawn toward the lights shining in Hagrid's cabin. The inside of the enormous Beauxbatons carriage was also lit up, and Harry could hear Madame Maxime talking inside it as he knocked on Hagrid's front door.

"You there, Harry?" Hagrid whispered, opening the door and looking around.

"Yeah," Harry said, slipping inside the cabin and pulling the cloak off his head. "What's up, Hagrid?"

"Got summat ter show yeh," Hagrid said, and Harry could tell that he was very excited. He was wearing a flower that resembled an oversized artichoke in his buttonhole. It looked as if he had attempted to comb his hair, as Harry could see the comb's broken teeth tangled in it.

"You look..." Harry tried to find the right word for it, then just nodded. "Yeah..."

"Er... Do I look alrigh'?" Hagrid asked nervously, as he tried to flatten his hair. Harry sighed and took out his wand.

"Stand still, Hagrid," Harry said and waved his wand. The flower in Hagrid's buttonhole changed. It opened up, and turned into a large, red rose. Then, Harry waved his wand at Hagrid's head. The comb teeth were pulled out of his hair, which was suddenly pulled together into a ponytail, looking fine-combed. "There. You look rather handsome, if I may say so myself."

Hagrid looked himself in the mirror and gasped, patting his hair. "Yeh managed ter tame this? Why haven't yeh done the same ter yer own hair?"

Harry gave a cheeky smirk. "Well, this is the Potter hair, which my father gave me. Of course I'm gonna keep it. Now, what're you showing me?"

"Come with me, keep quiet, an' keep yerself covered with that cloak," Hagrid said. "We won' take Fang. He won' like it..."

"Listen, Hagrid, I can't stay too long... I've got to be back up at the castle by one o'clock-"

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was opening the cabin door and striding off into the night. Harry hurried to follow and found, to his great surprise, that Hagrid was leading him to the Beauxbatons carriage.

"Hagrid, what...?"

Hagrid hushed him, and knocked three times on the door bearing the crossed golden wands.

Madame Maxime opened it. She was wearing a silk shawl wrapped around her massive shoulders. She smiled when she saw Hagrid.

"Ah, 'Agrid... it is time?"

"Bong-sewer," Hagrid said, beaming at her, and holding out a hand to help her down the golden steps.

Madame Maxime closed the door behind her, Hagrid offered her his arm, and they set off around the edge of the paddock containing Madame Maxime's giant winged horses, with Harry, totally bewildered, running to keep up with them. Had Hagrid wanted to show him Madame Maxime? He could see her any old time he wanted... she wasn't exactly hard to miss...

But it seemed that Madame Maxime was in for the same treat as Harry, because after a while she said playfully, "Wair is it you are

taking me, 'Agrid?"

"Yeh'll enjoy this," Hagrid said gruffly, "worth seein', trust me. On'y... don' go tellin' anyone I showed yeh, right? Yeh're not s'posed ter know."

"Of course not," said Madame Maxime, fluttering her long black eyelashes.

And still they walked, Harry getting more and more irritated as he jogged along in their wake, checking his watch every now and then. Hagrid had some harebrained scheme in hand, which might make him miss Sirius. If they didn't get there soon, he was going to turn around, go straight back to the castle, and leave Hagrid to enjoy his moonlit stroll with Madame Maxime...

But then, when they had walked so far around the perimeter of the forest that the castle and the lake were out of sight, Harry heard something. Men were shouting up ahead... then came a deafening, earsplitting roar...

Hagrid led Madame Maxime around a clump of trees and came to a halt. Harry hurried up alongside them, and for a split second, he thought he was seeing bonfires, and men darting around them, but his mouth soon fell open.

Dragons.

Four fully grown, enormous, vicious-looking dragons were rearing onto their hind legs inside an enclosure fenced with thick planks of wood, roaring and snorting. Torrents of fire were shooting into the dark sky from their open, fanged mouths, fifty feet above the ground on their outstretched necks. There was a silvery-blue one with long, pointed horns, snapping and snarling at the wizards on the ground, a smooth-scaled green one, which was writhing and stamping with all its might, a red one with an odd fringe of fine gold spikes around its face, which was shooting mushroom-shaped fire clouds into the air, and a gigantic black one, more lizard-like than the others, which was nearest to them.

At least thirty wizards, seven or eight to each dragon, were attempting to control them, pulling on the chains connected to heavy leather straps around their necks and legs. Mesmerized, Harry looked up, high above him, and saw the eyes of the black dragon, with vertical pupils like a cat's, bulging with either fear or rage, he couldn't tell which... It was making a horrible noise, a yowling, screeching scream... Gasping, Harry felt his ring vibrating, and noticed that the black dragon started struggling more fiercely, its scream increasing in volume.

"Keep back there, Hagrid!" a wizard near the fence yelled, straining on the chain he was holding. "They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!"

"Is'n' it beautiful?" Hagrid asked softly.

"It's no good!" another wizard yelled. "Stunning Spells, on the count of three!"

Harry saw each of the dragon keepers pull out his wand.

"Stupefy!" they shouted in unison, and the Stunning Spells shot into the darkness like fiery rockets, bursting in showers of stars on the dragons' scaly hides.

Harry watched the dragon nearest to them teeter dangerously on its back legs, its jaws stretched wide in a silent howl, its nostrils were suddenly devoid of flame, though still smoking. Then, very slowly, it fell. Several tons of sinewy, scaly-black dragon hit the ground with a thud that Harry could have sworn made the trees behind him quake.

The dragon keepers lowered their wands and walked forward to their fallen charges, each of which was the size of a small hill. They hurried to tighten the chains and fasten them securely to iron pegs, which they forced deep into the ground with their wands. Harry felt his ring stop vibrating, and blinked in confusion. Why had it reacted like that?

"Wan' a closer look?" Hagrid asked Madame Maxime excitedly.

The pair of them moved right up to the fence, and Harry followed.

The wizard who had warned Hagrid not to come any closer turned, and Harry realized who it was: Charlie Weasley.

"All right, Hagrid?" he panted, coming over to talk. "They should be okay now. We put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, thought it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet, but, like you saw, they weren't happy, not

happy at all..."

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" Hagrid asked, gazing at the closest dragon, the black one, with something close to reverence.

Its eyes were still just open. Harry could see a strip of gleaming yellow beneath its wrinkled black eyelid.

"This is a Hungarian Horntail," Charlie said. "There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one, a Swedish Short-

Snout, that blue-gray, and a Chinese Fireball, that's the red."

Charlie looked around. Madame Maxime was strolling away around the edge of the enclosure, gazing at the stunned dragons.

"I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid," Charlie said, frowning. "The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming... she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?"

"Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em," Hagrid shrugged, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons.

"Really romantic date, Hagrid," Charlie said, shaking his head.

"Four..." Hagrid said, "so it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do, fight 'em?"

"Just get past them, I think," Charlie said. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why... but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, and Harry saw long, bronze-colored spikes protruding along it every few inches. Five of Charlie's fellow keepers staggered up to the Horntail at that moment, carrying a clutch of huge granite-gray eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side. Hagrid let out a moan of longing.

"I've got them counted, Hagrid," Charlie said sternly. Then he said, "How's Harry?"

"Fine," Hagrid said. He was still gazing at the eggs.

"Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot," Charlie muttered grimly, looking out over the dragons' enclosure. "I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do for the first task. She's already having kittens about him..." Charlie imitated his mother's anxious voice. "'How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!' She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. 'He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!'"

Harry had had enough. Trusting to the fact that Hagrid wouldn't miss him, with the attractions of four dragons and Madame Maxime to occupy him, he turned silently and began to walk away, back to the castle.

Alright, so he was supposed to face a dragon... Oh, joy... As if Harry's life wasn't hard enough already... They had to throw in spikes, scales and fire as well...

–

As Harry came back to the common room, he found it deserted. He pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and threw himself into an armchair in front of the fire, panting in the semi-darkness of the room. The flames were the only source of like in the room. Nearby, on a table, the 'Support Cedric Diggory!' badges the Creevey brothers had been trying to improve were glinting in the firelight. They now read 'POTTER REALLY STINKS.' Harry looked back into the flames and jumped.

Sirius's head was sitting in the fire. If Harry hadn't seen Mr. Diggory do exactly the same back in the Weasleys' kitchen, it would have scared him out of his wits. Instead, his face breaking into the first smile he'd worn for days, he scrambled out of his chair, crouched down by the hearth, and said, "Sirius! How're you doing?"

Sirius looked different from how Harry remembered him. When they had last met, Sirius's face had been gaunt and sunken, surrounded by a quantity of long, black, matted hair, but the hair was short and clean now, his face was fuller, and he looked younger, much more like the only photograph Harry had of him, which had been taken at the Potters' wedding.

"Never mind me, how are you?" Sirius asked seriously.

"I'm... different," Harry said thoughtfully. "I should be terrified, and really nervous, but somehow, I'm not." Before he could stop himself, he was talking more than he'd talked in days. He talked about how no one believed he hadn't entered the tournament of his own free will, how Skeeter had lied about him in the Daily Prophet, how he couldn't walk down a corridor without being sneered at, and about Ron, Ron not believing him, Ron's betrayal...

"...and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius. And another thing... my ring acted weird when I saw the dragons."

Sirius looked at him, eyes full of concern, eyes that still hadn't completely lost that deadened, haunted look from Azkaban. "Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute. I haven't got long here... I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" Harry asked. Was this about the signs?

"Karkaroff," Sirius said. "Harry, he was a Death Eater."

"He was?" Harry asked, his eyes widening. No wonder he was so furious when he saw Moody...

"He was caught, and was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year, to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Why did they release him?" Harry asked, scratching his head as he cleared his mind to absorb this new information.

"He made a deal with the Ministry of Magic," Sirius said bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he gave names... He put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place... He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"I don't think it's Karkaroff," Harry said, shaking his head. "No matter how good an actor he may be, there was no way he could have faked the anger he showed when my name came out of the goblet. He didn't want me competing. I think someone else did it, and I think Dumbledore suspects the same thing."

"Either way, keep an eye out. Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet, Harry-"

"You and the rest of the world..." Harry muttered bitterly.

"-and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely, as Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had. I can't help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a good plan from where I'm standing," Harry said, a faint grin on his face. "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"Right, the dragons," Sirius said, speaking very quickly now. "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell, as dragons are strong, and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon..."

"I saw," Harry said with a nod.

"But you can do it alone," Sirius continued. "There is a way, and a simple spell's all you need. Just-"

But Harry held up a hand to silence him, his eyes widening as he sent out a magical pulse. Someone was coming down the spiral staircase behind him.

"Someone's coming," Harry said, turning back to Sirius. "Go!"

Harry scrambled to his feet, hiding the fire. If someone saw Sirius's face within the walls of Hogwarts, they would raise an almighty uproar, that'd be for sure.

He heard a tiny pop in the fire behind him, and knew Sirius had gone. He watched the bottom of the spiral staircase. Who in Merlin's name had decided to go for a stroll at one o'clock in the morning?

It was Ron. Dressed in his maroon paisley pajamas, Ron stopped dead facing Harry across the room, and looked around.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Harry snarled, glaring at the ginger. "And what are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I just wondered where you-" Ron broke off, shrugging. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed."

"Just thought you'd come snooping around, did you?" Harry asked. He was upset at Ron for interrupting just when Sirius was about to tell him how to get past the dragon.

"Sorry about that," Ron said, his face reddening with anger. "Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace."

Harry watched Ron head up the stairs again, and gritted his teeth in anger. Traitor! On the verge of literally growling, Harry looked at the POTTER REALLY STINKS badges on the table, and waved his wand at them. The words changed, and now spelled out 'POTTER KICKS REPTILE ARSE.'

"Now, time to get to work breaking at least one law of magic," Harry muttered to himself as he sat down and pressed his wand against his foot.

–

Harry worked harder than ever after that. He tried his very best in class, and in his private lessons with McGonagall and Dumbledore, and in his free time, he did his homework quickly, then started working on trying to come up with plans and practicing spells. So far, he had done much better working on his spells than his plans.

One Monday morning, Harry got up with a goal in mind. Harry, Fleur and Krum all knew about the dragons, but Cedric didn't. Harry was a firm believer in fair play, and wasn't about to let Cedric be the only one who charged into the First Task without knowing what he'd be facing.

So, when Harry got to the courtyard, he immediately found Cedric, surrounded by a group of fellow Hufflepuffs. As he approached, Harry noticed, much to his irritation, that most of Cedric's friends were wearing POTTER STINKS badges. They all sneered at him when he approached, not at all very Hufflepuff-like.

"Cedric, can I talk to you?" Harry asked. Cedric ignored his friends, who were telling him to just send Harry away. Instead, he nodded and got off the stone bench he was sitting on, and followed Harry some distance away, where they would be in private. "Dragons," Harry said as soon as they were out of earshot. "That's the First Task. They've got four, one for each of us, and we've got to get past them."

Cedric stared a him. Harry saw a bit of panic flickering in Cedric's gray eyes, a panic that had hit Harry once or twice the last few days.

"Are you sure?" Cedric asked in a hushed voice.

"Dead sure," Harry confirmed. "I've seen them."

"But how did you find out? We're not supposed to-"

"Never mind," Harry said quickly. He didn't want Hagrid to get in trouble. "In any case, Fleur and Krum also know by now, as both Karkaroff and Maxime saw the dragons as well."

Cedric straightened up and stared at Harry with a puzzled, almost suspicious look in his eyes.

"Why are you telling me?"

Harry ignored the urge to palm his face in frustration. "It's only fair, isn't it? Now we all know, and you're not the only one to charge in there with no idea of what you're facing." Cedric was still looking at him in a slightly suspicious way, and Harry sighed. "Whatever. Believe me, don't believe me, it's your choice. At least now my conscience won't be weighing me down."

With that, Harry turned and walked away, intending to practice some more.

–

The following morning, the atmosphere in the school was one of great tension and excitement. Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure, though of course, they didn't know what they would find there yet.

Harry felt oddly separate from everyone around him, whether they were wishing him good luck, or hissing, "We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter," as he passed. Unlike everyone else, he didn't go to classes. Instead, he spent the morning practicing, practicing and practicing. He still didn't know what he'd do against the dragon's fire, but he figured that dodging might be enough, or ducking under cover.

Just as Harry finished lunch that day, he saw McGonagall hurrying over to him in the Great Hall, lots of people watching her.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now... You have to get ready for your first task."

Harry nodded wordlessly and stood up, feeling that panic rising up inside him again.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine!"

Harry just nodded again and left the Great Hall with McGonagall. She didn't seem herself. In fact, she looked nearly as anxious as Hermione. As she walked him down the stone steps and out into the cold November afternoon, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," she said, "just keep a cool head... We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand... The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you... Are you alright?"

"As alright as I can be," Harry said, nodding. "Occlumency is good for that, you know," he added with a slightly cheeky grin, and he thought himself see the corners of McGonagall's mouth twitch ever so slightly.

She was leading him toward the place where the dragons were, around the edge of the forest, but when they approached the clump of trees behind which the enclosure would be clearly visible, Harry saw a tent had been erected, its entrance facing them, screening the dragons from view.

"You're to go in here with the other champions," McGonagall said in a rather shaky sort of voice, "and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there... he'll be telling you the... the procedure... Good luck."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, happy to know that McGonagall was worrying about him. "I'm sure I'll do just fine."

She left him at the entrance of the tent with a small nod, and Harry went inside.

Fleur was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She didn't look nearly as composed as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, nodding.

"Harry! Good-o!" Bagman said happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Bagman looked somehow like a slightly overblown cartoon figure, standing amid all the pale-faced champions. He was wearing his old Wasp robes.

"Well, now we're all here, time to fill you in!" Bagman said brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different, er, varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes... your task is to collect the golden egg!"

Harry glanced around at the other champions. Cedric nodded once to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again, looking slightly green. Fleur and Krum hadn't reacted at all. Harry suspected they'd be sick if they opened their mouths.

Harry should have felt the same, but his ring, vibrating ever so slightly, seemed to fill him with courage, a courage that made him feel like he'd be safe, even if there were four dragons out there for him to face. He doubted that Dumbledore had known about this particular trait, as he refused to break the rules and help the champions from his school.

In no time, hundreds upon hundreds of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking... Harry really wished he could be out there, as a spectator for once in his life, instead of the center-point...

Then, after what felt like a mere second, Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, holding it out to Fleur.

She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon, a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck, and Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that he had been right. Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had the number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric reached into the back, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left, Harry put his surprisingly still hand into the bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.

"Well, there you are!" Bagman said jovially. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, alright? Now... Harry... could I have a quick word? Outside?"

Confused, Harry nodded and followed Bagman out of the tent, walking a short distance away, into the trees. Then, Bagman turned to him with a fatherly expression on his face.

"Feeling alright, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

"What?" Harry blinked. "No, nothing, thanks."

"Got a plan?" Bagman asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," Bagman continued, lowering his voice further, "you're the underdog here, Harry... Anything I can do to help..."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I think I know what to do."

"Nobody would know, Harry," Bagman said, winking.

"No, I'm fine," Harry said as he took a deep breath. "I've got a plan worked out."

Just then, a whistle blew somewhere.

"Good lord, I've got to run!" Bagman exclaimed in alarm, and hurried off.

Harry walked back to the tent and saw Cedric emerging from it, greener than ever.

"Good luck, Cedric," Harry said, nodding at the Hufflepuff, who nodded weakly back.

Harry went back inside to Fleur and Krum. Seconds later, they heard the roar of the crowd, which meant Cedric had entered the enclosure and was now face-to-face with the living counterpart of his model.

The crowd screamed... yelled... gasped like a single many-headed entity, all in unison, as Cedric did whatever he was doing to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Krum was still staring at the ground, and Fleur had now taken to retracing Cedric's steps, around and around the tent.

Harry, restless, got up as well, and started stretching. He'd need to be fast, and agile, during this task. After all, if you enraged a dragon, you needed to be quick on your feet.

After about fifteen minutes, Harry heard the deafening roar that could mean only one thing: Cedric had gotten past his dragon an captured the golden egg.

"Very good indeed!" Bagman shouted. "And now the marks from the judges!"

He didn't call out the marks, and Harry supposed that the judges were holding them up and showing them to the crowd.

"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Fleur was trembling from head to foot. Harry, sympathizing, gave her a quick thumbs up as she left the tent with her head held high and her wand clutched in her hand. Now, only Harry and Krum were left alone, at opposite sides of the tent.

"Hermione, huh?" Harry spoke, so as to take his mind of the giant dragon he would be facing. Krum's head shot up, and he locked eyes with a smiling Harry. Realizing what he was about to ask, Harry explained. "Even though Hermione haven't, I've seen the way you look at her when you go to the library. In fact, I think that's the only reason you go there."

Then, Krum spoke to Harry for the first time ever, "If I may, vhot are you to her?"

"She's my best friend," Harry explained, slowly realizing that Krum must have believed Harry and Hermione to be a couple. "She's the best friend I could ever ask for."

"So, you don't mind if I...?"

"Go right ahead," Harry said, giving a small bow of his head, smiling. Krum looked about to speak, but just then, the whistle blew again.

"And here comes Mr. Krum."

Krum took a deep breath and stood up, walking toward the exit of the tent.

"Good luck," Harry told Krum, who slowly nodded.

"You too."

Now that Harry was alone, he took this time to hold up his hand, looking at the ring.

"What are you?" he spoke quietly, feeling the ring never stop vibrating. It was a very soothing feeling, but it would get annoying and attract his attention when he was supposed to be focusing on the dragon. Deciding that taking the ring off would be a good idea, for now, Harry grabbed it, and was surprised when he thumb touched the onyx dragon on the ring.

With a flash, an oval, shimmering shield appeared in front of him, making Harry blink in confusion. Taking his thumb off the ring, he noticed the shield flicker out of existence. Humming, Harry pressed and let go of the ring three more times, noticing how the shield appeared only when he pressed his thumb against the onyx dragon, and nowhere else.

"Very daring!" came Bagman's voice as the Chinese Fireball emitted a horrible, roaring shriek, while the crowd drew its collective breath. "That's some nerve he's showing! And... yes, he's got the egg!"

Wild applause ensued as Krum obviously finished, meaning that it would be Harry's turn any moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he waited. Then, he heard the whistle blow, and walked out through the entrance of the tent, trying to keep his breathing normal. It wouldn't do to start hyperventilating right before he faced the dragon. He also made sure to put up his Occlumency shields, making him look emotionless to the world as he locked away his fear and all other emotions.

By now, he was walking past the trees, through a gap in the enclosure fence.

Hundreds and hundreds of faces were staring down at him from stands that had been magicked there since he'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground.

Harry slowly looked around the enclosure, taking in his surroundings. In one of the dueling books he'd gotten his hands on, he'd read that an experienced duelist used his surroundings to their fullest, taking advantage of anything he could. Harry saw rocks, and only rocks.

Crouching, Harry took out his wand and tapped it against his left foot once, then did the same to his right. Standing up once more, Harry waved his wand again, no doubt shocking the crowd with his use of silent casting. Rocks all around him started rising into the air, then assumed an orbit around Harry's body, spinning faster and faster.

"Alright, nasty," Harry said calmly as he stared into the dragon's eyes. "Let's get you away from those eggs..."

One of the rocks spinning around Harry shot off at a wave of his wand, and zoomed straight toward the Horntail, clocking it in the forehead and shattering on impact.

Harry's ring started vibrating even more as the dragon flinched from the hit, giving off a terrifying screech. She looked incredibly enraged from the attack, and it showed as a jet of fire blew from her mouth. That's when Harry did something that shocked the crowd even further. He jumped into the air. What shocked the crowd wasn't the jump. It was the fact that he didn't fall.

Harry stood above the fire as if he was standing on solid ground. The Horntail angled her head upward to hit Harry, but Harry dodged, skipping to the side and running, on the air, out of the range of her fire.

Clicking his tongue in frustration as he saw that the Horntail was still sitting in the same place, seeming to have calmed down again, Harry pondered what to do. Testing the grounds, he magicked another rock to fly at the Horntail, who seemed prepared, and simply batted it out of the air with her tail. His ring wasn't vibrating as much anymore, either...

Connecting the dots, Harry slowly started walking toward the Horntail, who looked to be growing more and more frustrated as the ring started vibrating more and more.

"Playing it dangerous is the way to go, then," Harry muttered as he rushed toward the dragon, who became more enraged with every step. As he got close enough, the Horntail screwed her eyes shut and gave off another horrifying shriek, before blowing fire at Harry again. Harry once more jumped, and stopped in the air as if he was standing on the ground again, and kept running. This time, he started to run around in circles around the Horntail, who roared and shot more fire at him, but Harry was lucky enough to dodge her.

Seeing that the dragon seemed sufficiently enraged, Harry hurled four more rocks at her, two of which she was too slow to bat out of the air with her tail, resulting in the rocks smashing into her scaly face, then ran away from her. As predicted, the Horntail shrieked again, and stood up, spreading her massive wings wide.

This was the opportunity Harry had been waiting for. He promptly stopped and ran straight back at the dragon, then dropped out of the air as whatever was sustaining him vanished, allowing him to fall to the ground, right in front of the Horntail. Bending his knees, Harry rolled under the Horntail as soon as he touched the ground, right up to the nest, where he grabbed the golden egg and took off running again, narrowly dodging a swipe from the spiky tail of the dragon.

Harry heard Bagman roar something amidst the cheering of the crowd, but it was drowned out by the screeching of the Horntail. Harry looked back, to see a massive jet of fire heading toward him. Having only a split second to react, Harry reacted purely on instinct, as his finger shot over to press down on the onyx dragon on his ring, causing the shimmering shield to materialize in front of him.

The fire splashed against the shield like water on rock, spilling over the sides of the shield, with none of it hitting Harry himself. The heat from the fire was intense, though. Harry could feel himself get drenched in sweat after only a few seconds. The air became hotter and hotter, on the verge of becoming too much, when the fire died down, and the Horntail could be seen taking a new breath.

Hearing the collective gasp from the crowd due to Harry's survival, Harry took off running again, dodging the second jet of fire as the shield dropped and dragon keepers charged in to subdue the enraged dragon. He ran high into the air, as if heading up a staircase, getting to a safe distance.

Over the entrance to the enclosure, Harry could see McGonagall, Moody and Hagrid hurrying over to meet him, all of them waving him toward them, their smiles evident even from this distance. He steadily dropped down , heading over the stands, the noise of the crowd pounding his eardrums, and set down smoothly on the green grass, the golden egg in one hand, while the other hand holstered his wand, then shoved into his pocket. Finally letting up on his Occlumency shields, Harry grinned widely as he realized that he'd done it, he'd gotten through the first task!

"That was excellent, Potter!" McGonagall cried as he approached the teachers, and that, coming from her, was extravagant praise, most likely because he did something that had never been done before. He noticed that he hands were shaking as she put them on his shoulders, looking him over. "You're not burned, are you? Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score... Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already."

"Yeh did it, Harry!" Hagrid yelled hoarsely. "Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors'-"

"Thanks, Hagrid!" Harry interrupted loudly, so that Hagrid wouldn't blunder on and reveal that he had shown Harry the dragons beforehand.

"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please," McGonagall said, shakily patting Harry on the back. Harry, though feeling fine, felt the need to comply, as McGonagall would no doubt want a professional opinion. She never did take Harry's word for it whenever he said he was fine...

He walked in the direction McGonagall pointed, and saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the mouth of a second tent, looking worried.

"Dragons!" she exclaimed in a disgusted tone, pulling Harry inside. The tent was divided into cubicles, and he could make out Cedric's shadow through the canvas, but Cedric didn't seem to be badly injured. He was sitting up, at least.

Madam Pomfrey examined Harry, talking furiously all the while. "Last year dementors, this year dragons, what are they going to bring into this school next? You're very lucky," she told Harry after she finished with her examination. "Your body is only slightly overheated, but you'll be fine. I don't need to give you anything."

"Thank Merlin," Harry muttered under his breath. Madam Pomfrey's potions always tasted horrible...

"Now, just sit quietly for a minute... sit! And then, you can go and get your score. Drink this." Madam Pomfrey held out an empty glass, which she tapped with her wand, and in an instant, it was filled with water. Only now did Harry realize that he was very, very, very thirsty, so he took it without objection, gulping it down.

Madam Pomfrey bustled out of the tent, and Harry heard her go next door and say, "How does it feel now, Diggory?"

Harry didn't want to sit still, though. He was too happy and full of adrenaline. Taking out his wand, he tapped the glass and watched it refill, then gulped it down.

He got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he'd reached the mouth of the ten, two people had come darting inside, Hermione, followed closely by Ron.

"Harry, you were brilliant!" Hermione cried squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. "You were amazing! You really were! That shield! A-A-And that air-walking!"

Harry smiled at Hermione, then looked at Ron, who was very pale, and staring at Harry as if he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet... I... I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

Harry's eyebrow slowly rose. "Caught on, have you?" he asked coldly. "Took you long enough."

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly, but Harry cut him off before he could say anything.

"Don't even try, Ron," he said, his tone going sad. "What you did was nothing short of betrayal."

"I-I know," Ron said. "I shouldn't've-"

"But you did. You showed me just how much you trust me. It doesn't matter what your reason for doing it was, the fact remains that you were willing to cast me out. That's not something I look for in a best friend." Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I can't forgive you, Ron, and I don't think we can ever go back to the way things was. No, Hermione," he said, seeing a teary-eyed Hermione opening her mouth to speak. "I may be able to forgive a betrayal like that, but I don't forget. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."

With that, Harry brushed past Ron and Hermione, leaving the tent. He wanted to find out his score. He walked toward the enclosure in silence, and was very pleased when he found Hermione jogging up to walk next to him. She looked sad, but not angry, more like understanding.

"You were the best, you know," she said in a shaky voice. She no doubt sensed that Harry really didn't want to talk about Ron. "Cedric used Transfiguration to turn a rock into a dog in order to distract the dragon. It worked, at first, but then the dragon changed its mind and went after Cedric. Burned him pretty bad. Fleur tried a charm that I've never heard of before (Harry could hear the frustration in Hermione's voice at that), and tried to put it into a trance. It worked, and the dragon fell asleep, but as soon as Fleur got the egg, the dragon snored, and lit her skirt on fire. She put it out with Aguamenti, though. And Krum was probably the best after you. He hit his dragon in the eye with a Conjunctivitis Curse. That worked wonderfully, but the dragon accidentally stomped a few of her eggs, so they took points off for that. You weren't supposed to let the eggs get damaged, after all."

Hermione looked a little shaken up, and Harry wasn't sure if it was from the encounter with Ron, or the first task, but it was very amusing to see her like this. She was wringing her hands and glancing around here and there uncertainly.

They reached the end of the enclosure, and now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting, right at the other end, in seats draped in gold.

"It's marks out of ten from each one," Hermione informed Harry, squinting up the field, nodded as he saw the first judge, Madame Maxime, raising her wand in the air. What looked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure nine.

Hermione clapped quietly, smiling brightly at Harry.

Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number ten into the air.

Hermione's clapping became more excited, and Harry grinned. Looking good so far. Next was Dumbledore. He too put up a ten, along with Bagman. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.

Last came Karkaroff. He raised his wand, paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand, too... five.

"Five?" Hermione exclaimed indignantly. "You performed never seen before magic and shielded yourself against dragon fire, and he gives you a five? He gave Krum a ten!"

But Harry didn't really care about that. He still had forty-five points, and the crowd didn't only have Gryffindors cheering for him. When it had come to it, when they had seen what he was facing, most of the school had been on his side as well as Cedric's. He didn't care about the Slytherins, though. He could stand not having their support.

"You're in first place, Harry!" Charlie Weasley said, hurrying up to meet them as they set off back toward the school. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened, but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah, and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes... Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."

Hermione patted Harry on the shoulder, as if she was trying to be certain that he was still there, and not a ghost after having died from facing the dragon, and told him that she'd wait, so Harry reentered the tent.

Fleur, Cedric and Krum all came in together. One side of Cedric's face was covered in a thick, orange paste, which was presumably mending his burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him.

"Good one, Harry."

"Likewise," Harry said, grinning back.

"Well done, all of you!" Bagman said as he came bouncing into the tent, looking as pleased as if he personally had just got past a dragon. "Now, just a quick few words. You've got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth, but we're giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you're holding, you will see that they open... see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg, because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!"

–

_The first task was over. Harry had only begun to discover the abilities and powers of Merlin's famed Dragon Ring, but he paid it no further heed for the moment, as he had more important things to focus on. The screeching that resulted from opening the egg puzzled him, and for once, even Hermione couldn't explain what it was. For that reason, they spent most of their time in the library, doing research in between lessons, and Harry's private lessons with Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall. Time and time again, he thanked whatever deity out there that he'd learned to clear his mind, as he was sure he would have gone insane from all the studying without it._

_On top of that, Harry had the Yule Ball to worry about, as it seemed that he would have to open with is partner, along with the other champions._

–

"Lower your Occlumency shields, Harry," Dumbledore said as he and Harry stood in their makeshift training circle in Dumbledore's office. "You will not be needing them."

Harry blinked in confusion. "Er, why, sir?"

"Because today, we will be moving from defense to offense," Dumbledore said with a smile. "You will be learning Legilimency."

Harry smiled brightly. He had been waiting for this.

"Wand out, Harry. The incantation is Legilimens."

Harry waited, taking his wand out and staring at Dumbledore. After a minute of silence, however, Harry spoke, "Um, sir? What do I do?"

"Sadly, Harry, Legilimency is not as easy to teach as Occlumency," Dumbledore said. "It, in fact, is not something you can simply learn in theory. You have to do it in order to learn it. My shield is up now, Harry. Whenever you are ready."

Slowly, Harry nodded, thinking. Then, he slowly raised his wand and pointed it between Dumbledore's eyes. "Legilimens!"

–

"What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry groaned softly as he and Hermione waltzed through the empty Transfiguration classroom, which McGonagall had given their permission to use.

"Legilimency training with Dumbledore," Harry explained, closing his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the headache he was experiencing. "I wasn't allowed to keep up my Occlumency shields, as a way to show me what would happen if my Legilimency didn't improve... Dumbledore just batted my probes out of the way and smashed his way into my head over and over."

Hermione looked... amused? "Well, on the plus side, your dancing is getting much better," she said with a giggle, and Harry couldn't help but grin. In all honesty, the prospect of opening the Yule Ball was more terrifying for Harry than facing the Horntail...

"So, are you going to tell me now?" Hermione repeated the question she had asked at least once every day since the first task. She had been begging Harry to tell her what he used to stand on the air, but Harry had remained very tight-lipped.

"Maybe this summer, when there aren't ears everywhere, Hermione," Harry said with a smirk, and was rewarded with a rather painful stomp on his foot. "Ow!"

"Git!" Hermione said, pouting. Harry could tell that the issue was eating her up inside. "You broke one of the laws of magic, and you won't even tell me how..."

–

_Well, training, training, training, then some more training. That was basically all that was done that year. Neither you, nor I, wish to go through it all, so I will give you a quick summary, and then we'll get to the good stuff. Harry brought one of the Patil twins, Parvati, to the Yule Ball, and had a surprisingly good time. His Legilimency and Occlumency training progressed nicely. Um, let's see... Ah, yes, Hermione got together with Krum. I think they spent a lot of time in a few broom closets here and- Ow! Fine, back to Harry, then..._

_Well, things progressed nicely for Harry. His magical core grew and grew, up to the point where his wand was on the verge of warning him. He didn't really think anymore about his ring, as he didn't have to face anymore dragons. Then came the second task. With the use of Gillyweed, which he got from the ever helpful Dobby, Harry managed to reach his hostage, who was, surprisingly to most, a shaggy-looking dog that no one knew where it came from, but Harry knew. As usual, however, he decided to be noble, and ended up waiting for the others to arrive as well. When Fleur never showed up, Harry decided to rescue her hostage as well, and for showing spirit, he tied with Cedric._

_Another sign of the coming dangers appeared as well, after the champions were told what the third task was going to be, a maze. Harry and Krum, who had walked off, talking, encountered a delirious Mr. Crouch. Crouch seemed out of his mind, sometimes believing himself to be talking to his assistant, Percy Weasley, and sometimes he became coherent, and demanded to see Dumbledore. Harry, foolishly, told Krum to stay, and rushed off to get Dumbledore._

_When Harry and Dumbledore returned, however, they found Krum stunned, and Mr. Crouch nowhere to be found..._

_Hm... Not much happened next, I guess... Hey, what do you mean, bad story teller? How can you tell a boring story well? Like I said, I'm just going to summarize. The interesting things come at the end of the third task. So since you want interesting, we'll skip straight to it, shall we? Alright. So, we reach the end of the third task..._

–

Harry and Cedric stood, staring at the gleaming Triwizard Cup. The acromantula behind them was drenching the ground in its blood, but they didn't really care about that. They just stared at the cup.

"You take it," Cedric said suddenly. "You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."

"That's not how it's supposed to work," Harry said with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "The one who reaches the cup first gets the points, and I don't feel an urge to run."

Cedric took a few paces nearer to the dead spider, away from the cup, shaking his head.

"No."

"Nobility is a Gryffindor trait," Harry said. "Just take it, then we can get out of here."

Cedric watched Harry stretching. Harry didn't really want to win the tournament anymore. There may have been a time during the Triwizard that he actually felt excited to be competing, but not anymore. He didn't want it.

"You told me about the dragons," Cedric said. "I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."

"I had help on that, too," Harry said, shrugging. "You helped me with the egg, so we're square."

"I had help on the egg in the first place," Cedric said.

"We're still square," Harry said.

"You should've got more points in the second task," Cedric said mulishly. "You stayed behind to get all the hostages. I should've done that."

"By Merlin, you're a real piece of work," Harry sighed. "I guess we both are. Let's compromise." Seeing Cedric's raised eyebrow as an urging to explain, he spoke, "Let's grab it together. Either way, it's a win for Hogwarts."

Cedric looked to be thinking it over. Then, he nodded, a smile breaking out on his face. "Fair enough."

The two started a slow walk toward the cup. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's handles."

"On three, right?" Harry said. "One... two... three!"

He and Cedric both gasped a handle, and instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground, and he could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup. It was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.

Harry felt his feet slam into the ground, and his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around, and Cedric shook his head.

They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely. They had obviously traveled miles, perhaps hundreds, for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard. The black outline of a hill rose above them to their left, and Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup, and then up at Harry.

"Did anyone tell _you_ the cup was a Portkey?"

"They did not," Harry said. His sixth sense, as he called it, was acting up, telling him danger was approaching. He had felt the same when going to save the Philosopher's Stone, and again in the Chamber of Secrets, and also in the Shrieking Shack. He knew by now that he shouldn't ignore it. "Wands out."

They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him, then sent out a Magical Sensory pulse. He picked up on two magical cores nearby, both approaching them, which was confirmed when Harry followed up with two more pulses. One was average size, while the other was very small, yet somehow massive at the same time, very powerful.

"Someone's coming," Harry whispered to Cedric.

Squinting tensely through the darkness, they watched the figure drawing nearer, walking steadily toward them between the graves. Harry couldn't make out a face, but from the wait it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that the second source of magic was being carried by it.

Whoever it was, he was short, and wearing a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to obscure his face. And, several paces nearer, the gap between them closing all the time, Harry saw that the thing in the person's arms looked like a baby...

Harry kept his wand up and glanced sideways at Cedric, who shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them. For a second, Harry and Cedric and the short figure simply looked at one another.

And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was an agony he had never felt before. His wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, seeing nothing at all.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill the spare."

Harry knew he only had a few seconds to react. Either he could grab his wand in the time it took for the stranger to cast the incantation, or...

"Avada Kedavra!" a second voice screeched, just as Harry pointed two fingers behind him.

There was a flash of green light, and something heavy fell to the ground beside him. The pain in his forehead diminished, and he slowly opened his eyes.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. Harry stared into Cedric's eyes for a second, which felt like an eternity, trying to discern if his plan had worked. Cedric's eyes weren't blank and expressionless as it was written that Avada Kedavra victims were. Instead, they just looked surprised, but still very much alive. That meant that Harry's plan had worked.

With his power at the level it was, Harry could almost flawlessly perform silent first-year spells, and wandless. This meant that he had successfully used Petrificus Totalus on Cedric, while at the same time levitating a nearby rock into the air to intercept the killing curse right before it hit Cedric.

However, this course of action left Harry opened, and he felt ropes wrap around him tightly, binding his hands and legs, before he felt himself levitated into the air.

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and was levitating Harry toward the marble headstone. Harry saw the name upon it flickering in the wandlight before he was forced around and slammed against it.

_TOM RIDDLE_

The cloaked man was now conjuring more right cords around Harry, tying him from neck to ankles to the headstone. Harry could hear shallow, fast breathing from the depths of the hood. He struggled, and the man hit him, hit him with a hand that had a finger missing. Harry's eyes widened.

"You!" he gasped, realizing that it was Wormtail who had done it, who had attempted to kill Cedric in cold blood.

What happened next was a blur to Harry. He was filled with rage at seeing his parents' betrayer. He hated Wormtail, more than he had ever hated anyone, even Voldemort. Voldemort had, after all, always been clear in his intentions, and he was someone whose skills and intelligence Harry could respect.

But Wormtail, the man who was supposed to have been Lily and James Potter's friend, had sold information to the enemies, had betrayed them, sold them out to Voldemort! And now, he was helping Voldemort again, no doubt!

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath, slamming down his Occlumency shields. It wouldn't do to have him lose his head in this situation. A skilled wizard always kept a level head and always thought before he acted. He tried to attempt a wandless Diffindo, but it didn't work. His hands were pointed straight down, and so the weak spell only sliced into the marble beneath him. Luckily, Wormtail didn't notice this.

He was chanting something, but that wasn't in the front of Harry's mind. Instead, he tried to come up with possible ways to escape. He had been planning to release Cedric from his frozen state, so that they could take Wormtail by surprise, but that plan backfired.

Luckily, however, he now had a witness. Cedric, who was... yes, he was turned toward the headstone, could see Peter Pettigrew alive and well. This could clear Sirius, hopefully. Well, if they got out of this alive...

A sharp pain in his arm brought Harry back to the present, and his eyes snapped open to see that Wormtail had cut his arm with a silver dagger. Wormtail fumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to Harry's cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to a massive, bubbling cauldron, big enough to fit a full grown man, and poured the blood into it. The liquid turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned everything else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened...

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of Harry, so that he couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric, or anything but vapor hanging in the air...

Through the mist in front of him, he saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletal, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," the high, cold voice from behind the steam said, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, cradling what Harry now saw was a stump on his arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry, and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was as flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils...

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

–

_See? I told you the exciting part would come now. There Harry was, tied to a headstone in front of a resurrected Lord Voldemort. What was he to do? He also had Cedric to consider. What if Voldemort found out that Cedric was alive, he thought. Voldemort didn't seem to care about Cedric, however, and merely summoned his Death Eaters. He did so by pressing down on the Dark Mar burned into the spineless and traitorous Wormtail's arm._

_Many Death Eaters came, and were spoken to, by name, by Voldemort. Harry knew now who the Death Eaters were for sure, but it wouldn't do him any good if he didn't get away. Then came the opening he had been waiting for..._

–

"Crucio!"

It was pain beyond anything Harry had ever experienced. His very bones were on fire, and his head was surely splitting along his scar, his eyes were rolling madly in his head. He wanted it to end... to black out... to die...

And then it was gone. He was hanging limply in the ropes binding him to the headstone of Voldemort's father, looking up into those bright red eyes through a kind of mist. The night was ringing with the sound of the Death Eaters' laughter.

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," Voldemort said. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Just a little longer, Nagini," he whispered, and the snake glided away through the grass to where the Death Eaters stood watching. "Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone.

Harry landed on the ground with a slight grunt, not really prepared for the fall, and looked around. The Death Eaters were circling them, so running for it was out of the question...

Voldemort stood, waiting, as Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's frozen form lay, and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into Harry's hand without looking at him. Then, as Wormtail was about to resume his place in the circle, Harry grabbed his wrist and forced him to face him.

"This isn't over, Wormtail," Harry hissed dangerously. "I assure you, you will die for what you have done."

Wormtail, flinching in fear, didn't answer, but instead scrambled over to his place in the circle of watching Death Eaters.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly, his red eyes glinting through the darkness.

"I have," Harry said with a nod.

"We bow to each other, Harry," Voldemort said, bending a little, but keeping his snake-like face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed... Dumbledore would like you to show manners. Bow to death, Harry.

The Death Eaters were laughing. Voldemort's lip-less mouth was smiling. Harry sighed, and gave a bow, just as small as the one Voldemort had given him.

"I bow to life, not death," he said calmly. He didn't know why he was so calm. He should have been terrified. He was facing Lord Voldemort resurrected, with near thirty Death Eaters surrounding them, but when it came down to it, his Gryffindor courage shone through. This was just another duel. If he lost, he'd die, so it wouldn't do to lose his head...

"Very good," Voldemort said softly. "And now you face me, like a man... straight-backed and proud, the way your father died... And now, we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and he seemed pleasantly surprised when Harry managed to dodge the Cruciatus Curse that he sent at him. Harry raised his wand.

"Stupefy!"

The red bolt of magic flew at Voldemort, who simply waved his wand, raising a shield that easily deflected the spell.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort chided. "This isn't a simple school duel, you know. You need to hit me harder than that."

"Just testing the waters," Harry defended, then pointed his wand at Voldemort again. Voldemort was quicker, however, and fired off a spell, shining blue. His eyes widening, Harry cast a Protego, and watched as the spell bounced off the shield. However, the shield shattered from the impact, leaving Harry without a defense.

They both pointed their wands at each other.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from Voldemort's wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's. They met in midair, and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as if an electric charge were surging through it. His hand seized up around it, he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to, and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, neither red nor green, but bright, deep gold.

Harry, following the beam with his astonished gaze, saw that Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

And then, nothing could have prepared Harry for this, he felt his feet lift from the ground. He and Voldemort were both being raised into the air, their wands still connected by that thread of shimmering golden light. They glided away from the tombstone of Voldemort's father and then came to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves... The Death Eaters were shouting. They were asking Voldemort for instructions, closing in, reforming the circle around Harry and Voldemort, the snake slithering at their heels, some of them drawing their wands...

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered, though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now...

"Do nothing!" Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light still connecting his wand with Harry's. Harry held onto his wand more tightly, with both hands, and the golden thread remained unbroken. "Do nothing unless I command you!" Voldemort shouted to the Death Eaters.

And then an unearthly and beautiful sound filled the air... It was coming from every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort. It was a sound Harry recognized, though he had heard it only once before in his life: phoenix song.

It was the sound of hope to Harry... the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard in his life... He felt as if the song were inside him instead of just around him... It was the sound he connected with Dumbledore, and it was almost as

though a friend were speaking in his ear...

_Don't break the connection._

I know, Harry told the music, I know I mustn't... but no sooner had he thought it, than the thing became much harder to do. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever... and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too... it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands. Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way... The direction of the beam's movement was now toward

him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily...

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harry's wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry's wand vibrated. He was sure his wand would not survive contact with it, and it felt as if it was about to shatter under his fingers...

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes furious, fixed... and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way... and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now...

Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful... One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve... but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort's wand... and slowly... very slowly... it moved along the golden thread...

Then, something even more unexpected happened... Harry's wand started vibrating again, just as widely as when the bead was right in front of his wand. The bead stopped perfect in the middle of the two, and their wands started glowing, burning hot. Harry looked up into Voldemort's eyes, and saw that they looked just as fearful as his own...

Then, the connection was abruptly broken, and both Harry and Voldemort's wand exploded, sending them both flying backwards. Harry landed in the grass with a thud and let out a cry of pain. His right arm felt numb, and there was an incredible pain in his right left. He wasn't sure if he could even move it.

"Stun him!"

Harry's eyes widened when he heard those words spoken by Voldemort, and rolled away just in time for a Stunner to impact witch the dirt on the spot he'd occupied only a split-second earlier.

Harry pushed himself up on his good leg and dove behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light, and saw the tip of its wings shatter as the spells hit it.

Harry looked down at his hand, to see that it was red with blood. Shards of his wand were dug deeply into his flesh, rendering the hand practically useless for the moment.

Grunting front the strain, Harry got up and rushed off, ignoring the blinding pain in his leg, to the spot where Cedric lay, grabbing the frozen boy and ducking behind another marble angel. Then, he looked toward the Triwizard Cup, about twenty feet away from him.

He raised his good arm and held it out toward the cup as his injured hand grabbed a fistful of Cedric's robes. The cup wobbled a little, and Harry growled in frustration.

"COME ON, YOU PIECE OF JUNK!" he roared at the cup. To his immense surprise, it flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle, and the last thing Harry heard before he felt the jerk behind his navel was Voldemort's scream of fury. The Portkey had worked. It was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him... They were going back.

–

Harry felt himself slam flat into the ground. His face was pressed against the grass, and the smell of it was intoxicating. Never would he ever have believed that he would be happy about slamming face-first into the ground on the Quidditch pitch... He had his eyes closed, and didn't open them. He didn't want to. He needed to collect himself.

His hands were still clutching Cedric's robes and the Triwizard Cup. He lay in the grass in exhaustion, just smelling it, as he waited for someone to do something... something to happen...

A torrent of sound deafened and confused him. There were voices everywhere, footsteps, screams... So, he was in shock? That was why he didn't react to any of those sounds? Harry could think of nothing by staying there, just smelling the grass. Then, a pair of hands seized him roughly and turned him over.

"Harry! _Harry_!"

Harry opened his eyes. He was looking up at the starry sky, and Albus Dumbledore was crouched over him. The dark shadows of a crowd of people pressed in around them, pushing nearer. Harry could feel their many footsteps in the ground. Finally, Harry snapped out of his shock, letting go of the cup and grabbing Dumbledore's wrist.

"He's back," he whispered. "He's back. Voldemort."

"What's going on? What's happened?"

The face of Cornelius Fudge appeared upside down over Harry. He looked white, appalled.

"My God... Diggory!" he whispered. "Dumbledore, he's dead!"

Only now did Harry remember Cedric. Letting go of Cedric, he pressed the index finger of his wounded hand into Cedric's chest.

"Finite..." he whispered. Immediately, Cedric shot up, his eyes wide with fear.

"He's back!" he exclaimed. Then, he looked down at Harry. "You saved my life, Harry, again."

"Don't mention it," Harry muttered as he sat up, hearing whispers go through the crowd.

"Dumbledore, Amos Diggory's running," Fudge said. Cedric looked over to his father and ran over to him, while Dumbledore focused his attention on Harry.

"Albus," growled a voice that Harry recognized as Alastor Moody's, "I'll take Potter to the hospital wing. You can talk to him there once Pomfrey is through with him. For now, take care of this mess."

Harry saw Dumbledore nod, and he felt himself get guided away from the crowd.

–

_But Moody didn't bring Harry to the Hospital Wing. He brought him to his office, and had Harry retell what had happened that night. But something was very off about Moody. Instead of angry about the fact that Voldemort was back, he seemed happy, though upset that the Death Eaters that appeared at his resurrection weren't punished. Then, Moody revealed something shocking. He claimed that he had been the one to fire off the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup, and that he had been the one to put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire, and that he had done everything in his power to make sure that Harry reached the cup. He claimed to be Voldemort's most loyal servant, the servant Voldemort had spoken of in the graveyard..._

–

"The Dark Lord and I," Moody said, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, "have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers... very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure... the very great pleasure... of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!"

"You're mad," Harry said, unable to stop himself, despite being very weak from bloodloss. The blood seeping from the wounds in his hand and leg were drenching the floor of Moody's office. "You're mad!"

"Mad, am I?" Moody asked, his voice rising uncontrollably. "We'll see! We'll see who's mad, now that the Dark Lord has returned, with me at his side! He is back, Harry Potter, you did not conquer him! And now, I conquer you!"

Moody raised his wand, he opened his mouth, and Harry raised his hand.

"Stupefy!" There was a blinding flash of red light, and with a great splintering and crashing, the door of Moody's office was blasted apart.

Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry, still staring at the place where Moody's face had been, saw Albus Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall looking back at him out of the Foe-Glass. He looked around and saw the three of them standing in the doorway, Dumbledore in front, his wand outstretched.

At that moment, Harry fully understood for the first time why people said Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. The look upon Dumbledore's face as he stared down at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody was more terrible than Harry could have ever imagined. There was no benign smile upon Dumbledore's face, no twinkle in the eyes behind the spectacles. There was cold fury in every line of the ancient face. A sense of power radiated from Dumbledore as if he were giving off burning heat.

He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moody's unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape followed him, looking into the Foe-Glass, where his own face was still visible, glaring into the room. McGonagall went straight to Harry.

"Come along, Potter," she whispered. The thin line of her mouth was twitching as though she was about to cry. "Come along... hospital wing..."

"No," Dumbledore said sharply.

"Dumbledore, he ought to, look at him, he's been through enough tonight-"

"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand," Dumbledore said curtly. "Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery. He needs to know who has put him through the ordeal he has suffered tonight, and why."

"I'm well enough for this," Harry said, somewhat repeating the words spoken the first time he faced Voldemort. "I just need to stop the bleeding for now."

McGonagall looked as if she was going to complain, but then stopped, and waved her wand. Out of thin air, bandages appeared, and wrapped around Harry's right arm and knee, somewhat halting the bleeding for a while.

"How could it have been Moody?" Harry asked weakly.

"This is not Alastor Moody," Dumbledore said quietly. "You have never known Alastor Moody. The real Moody would not have lied to me as he did tonight. The moment I saw that they blood trail you left led away from the hospital wing, I knew, and I followed."

Dumbledore bent down over Moody's limp form and put a hand inside his robes. He pulled out Moody's hip flask and a set of keys on a ring. Then he turned to McGonagall and Snape.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess, and then go down to the kitchens and bring up the house-elf called Winky. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Take the dog up to my office, tell him I will be with him shortly, then come back here."

If either Snape or McGonagall found these instructions peculiar, they hid their confusion. Both turned at once and left the office. Dumbledore walked over to the trunk with seven locks, fitted the first key in the lock, and opened it. It contained a mass of spellbooks. Dumbledore closed the trunk, placed a second key in the second lock, and opened the trunk again. The spellbooks had vanished. This time it contained an assortment of broken Sneakoscopes, some parchment and quills, and what looked like a silvery Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched, astounded, as Dumbledore placed the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth keys in their respective locks, reopening the trunk, and each time revealing different contents.

Then he placed the seventh key in the lock, threw open the lid, and Harry let out a cry of amazement. He was looking down into a kind of pit, an underground room, and lying on the floor some ten feet below, apparently fast asleep, thin and starved in appearance, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was gone, the socket that should have held the magical eye looked empty beneath its lid, and chunks of his grizzled hair were missing. Harry stared, thunderstruck, between the sleeping Moody in the trunk and the unconscious Moody lying on the floor of the office.

"Polyjuice?"

Dumbledore climbed into the trunk, lowered himself, and fell lightly onto the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He bent over him.

"Stunned, controlled by the Imperius Curse, very weak," he said. "Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak, he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in no immediate danger."

Harry did as he was told. Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.

"Yes, Polyjuice Potion, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair..." Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. "The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done... on the hour... every hour... We shall see."

Dumbledore pulled out the chair at the desk and sat down upon it, his eyes fixed upon the unconscious Moody on the floor. Harry stared at him too. Minutes passed in silence...

Then, before Harry's very eyes, the face of the man on the floor began to change. The scars were disappearing, the skin was becoming smooth, the mangled nose became whole and started to shrink. The long mane of grizzled gray hair was withdrawing into the scalp and turning the color of straw. Suddenly, with a loud clunk, the wooden leg fell away as a normal leg regrew in its place. Next moment, the magical eyeball had popped out of the man's face as a real eye replaced it. It rolled away across the floor and continued to swivel in every direction.

Harry saw a man lying before him, pale-skinned, slightly freckled, with a mop of fair hair. He knew who he was. He had seen him in Dumbledore's Pensieve, had watched him being led away from court by the dementors, trying to convince Mr. Crouch that he was innocent... but he was lined around the eyes now and looked much older...

There were hurried footsteps outside in the corridor. Snape had returned with Winky at his heels. McGonagall was right

behind them.

"Crouch!" Snape said, stopping dead in the doorway. "Barty Crouch!"

"Good heavens," McGonagall said, stopping dead and staring down at the man on the floor.

"Professor," Harry said tiredly, looking at Dumbledore. "You're probably going to ask a lot of questions, and I'm in a lot of pain... I think I'm bleeding out, too... Can I go to the hospital wing, and then I can watch this conversation in your Pensieve some other day?"

Dumbledore turned to Harry and studied him. Then, he nodded.

"Minerva, please take Harry to the hospital wing."

McGonagall nodded as well and wrapped an arm around Harry, leading him away. "Come along, Harry."

More than anything right now, Harry wanted sleep, and nothing but sleep...

–

"You are in luck, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said as Harry woke up the following morning. Cedric was in a bed to his right, waving at Harry as he put on his glasses. Fleur was in a bed right across from him, and Krum was in a bed across from Cedric, looking slightly dazed. "Your arm will be perfectly fine. The shards of your wand embedded in it has been removed, and you should be regaining complete motor functions in it in at most two day."

Harry hummed and looked down at his leg. "Since you said it like that... I'm assuming the same cannot be said about my leg?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Sadly, no. One of the shards in your knee burned so hot that it has fused with the bone. You may feel some pain in it every now and again, and you will have a limp. I suggest getting a walking stick, so you don't make it worse."

Harry slowly nodded as Madam Pomfrey moved over to Krum to check up on him. According to Barty Crouch, he had Imperius'd Krum during the third task, which caused him to attack Cedric. He was, no doubt, still a bit off after the experience. Harry watched, with some satisfaction, as Madam Pomfrey forced one of her vile-tasting potions down Krum's throat. For once, Harry wasn't the one drinking them.

Only now did Harry see that, in a bed at the far end of the room, lay the real Moody, motionless. His wooden bed and magical eye were lying on the bedside table.

"Madam Pomfrey, is he okay?" he asked, and Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"He'll be fine."

"Hey, Harry," Cedric said suddenly, making Harry turn to him curiously. "Thank you, for, you know, back there... I was so shocked, I couldn't even move. If you hadn't levitated that rock to intercept the curse, I would've died."

"Like I said, don't mention it," Harry said, grinning. "I-"

Harry never got to finish, however, as the doors opened just then, and Dumbledore came sweeping into the hospital wing, with none other than Mr. Ollivander following him, cradling a wooden box in his arms.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said pleasantly as he stopped in front of Harry's bed. Then, he looked around at the other champions. "Are you all doing alright?"

Getting murmurs and nods, Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "Harry, I have told Mr. Ollivander that your wand exploded, and he claims that you are ready for a staff. He is here to help you pick out cores for it."

Harry nodded as Mr. Ollivander stepped forward, putting the wooden box down on the bedside table and opening it. There were several vials in the box, all filled with different things. One had a long silver hair in it, another had what was easily recognizable as a phoenix feather, another held a blond hair, and so on.

"Mr. Potter, as staffs are for much more powerful wizards, a single core is simply not enough to form a proper conductor for the magic," Mr. Ollivander said, his pale, gray eyes staring intently into Harry's own. "Therefore, you will be picking out three cores that you feel drawn to, and I will construct a staff for you with it. Usually, one would also pick a crystal, which would be placed at the top of the staff, but Professor Dumbledore had a different idea."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled and reached into his robes, taking out what looked like a simple a orb of coal. Seeing Harry's quizzical look, he explained, "This, Harry, is the remains of your wand. I have melted and compressed the materials to create this crystal for you, as you seemed so very attached to your old wand."

Harry grinned, feeling very relieved that his faithful holly wand hadn't just been thrown out, despite it having been blown to pieces.

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

"Now, Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore informs me that you are quite skilled in the mind arts?" Mr. Ollivander asked, to which Harry nodded. "Very good. That should make this easier. What I want you to do is clear your mind, and hold your hand over these different cores. When you do find a compatible core, you should feel a bump on your own magical core, which indicates that it is the right one for you. So, if you please..."

Harry nodded and did as he was told. He cleared his mind and located his magical core, then held his hand over the box. Immediately, he felt a massive jolt in his core, and felt his fingers close around a vial. Opening his eyes, he found that he was holding the vial with the phoenix feather in it.

He saw Mr. Ollivander and Dumbledore share a look.

"Yes, I suspected you would be drawn to that," Mr. Ollivander said in amusement. "Please, continue..."

Harry did so, and this time his hand closed around a vial with the silver hair.

"Unicorn hair. Very good. Now, the last one."

Harry searched again, and this time, he picked a vial that appeared to be... empty? Harry realized that he'd once more done something that wasn't normal, judging by the fact that both Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander looked surprised.

"Thestral hair..." Mr. Ollivander whispered. "Now, that's rare... Thestral hair hardly ever naturally reacts to a wizard." Snatching the vial out of Harry's hand and pocketing it, Mr. Ollivander closed the box and picked it up again. "Very well, Mr. Potter, I shall begin working on the staff immediately," he told Harry and accepted the coal orb from Dumbledore. "I will send it to you once it is done, and I will also inform you of the price, which you can pay me whenever you see fit. Not too late, I hope, though."

Bowing to Harry, and then Dumbledore, Mr. Ollivander left the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey tells me your leg will not be able to regain its full mobility," Dumbledore said, looking down at Harry's leg, and Harry nodded. "I'm sorry, my boy."

"Don't be, Professor," Harry said, grinning. "It's better to be a limp than dead, right?"

"Very true," Dumbledore said, smiling brightly.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Cedric said suddenly. "I heard shouting this morning, outside. May I ask...?"

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said, and his smile disappeared. "It appears that Minister Fudge does not believe your story of Lord Voldemort's return, Mr. Diggory. He claims that Harry here has hit you with a strong Confundus charm, and has, in his own words, shoved his lies down your throat."

"What?" Cedric asked in disbelief. "But... He can't... He has to investigate, doesn't he?"

"Sadly, I fear he will feel no reason to do so," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "Cornelius is afraid, you see."

"Afraid?" Harry asked.

"Yes, afraid. He is afraid to deal with a second wizarding war, so he has deluded himself into believing that you two and I are liars who want to do nothing but cause panic."

"But... Barty Crouch..." Harry said. He couldn't believe this. Fudge was going to do nothing?

"Alas, Minister Fudge brought a dementor into the school while you two were asleep. I'm afraid Barty Crouch won't be able to testify to anything anymore..."

Getting Dumbledore's point, both Cedric and Harry nodded.

"You both need healing and a rest," Dumbledore said, his smile returning as he looked over them. "Pay no more attention to this problem for the moment. Well, I must be off. Rest up, you two. Mr. Krum, Miss Delacour." Dumbledore nodded to Fleur and Krum, then left the hospital wing.

Harry sighed as he leaned back in his bed.

"First Hagrid, then Sirius, and now this..."

"Sirius?" Cedric asked, blinking. "Sirius Black, you mean? What does he-"

"He's innocent," Harry said. "He was imprisoned for betraying my parents to Voldemort, and murdering Peter Pettigrew, but he was framed. The real traitor was Pettigrew, and he was never killed. You saw him last night, in the graveyard. He was the one who attempted to kill you."

–

Harry got to return to the Gryffindor Tower two days later, provided he used the walking stick that Madam Pomfrey had asked Professor Flitwik to make for him. From what Hermione told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Cedric and especially Harry alone, that nobody ask them questions or badger them to tell the story of what happened in the maze. Apparently, Cedric had been very relieved, and so was Harry. He didn't think he could stand reliving that night too many times. Not yet, anyway. All it did was remind him that he was nowhere near powerful enough yet. He only found the opening to escape because Voldemort had greatly underestimated him, and that was all. Had Voldemort been serious, he would have made the first curse the killing curse, and Harry wouldn't have been alive.

Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter's article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was.

The only person apart from Hermione and Dumbledore that Harry felt like he could talk freely to was Hagrid. As there was no longer a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, they had those lessons free. They used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit Hagrid in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day, and Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly.

"Who's that?" Hagrid called, coming to the door. "Harry!"

He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair, and said, "Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh."

As they entered Hagrid's cabin, they saw two bucket-size cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace. Seeing Harry's raised eyebrow, Hagrid explained, "Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," he said. "She's jus' left."

"Who?" Harry asked, blinking.

"Madame Maxime, o' course!"

"You two made up, then?" Harry asked with a sly smirk as he sat down, groaning and rubbing his knee. The pain came and went every now and then.

"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," Hagrid said airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.

"You all righ'?" he asked gruffly. "Yer leg actin' up?"

"A little," Harry nodded. "But I'll deal with it."

The three sat in silence for a while, broken only by Harry cursing up a storm as Fang tried to lick Harry's face, trying to reach him by putting his front paws on Harry's bad knee.

"Knew he was goin' ter come back," Hagrid said suddenly after Harry had calmed down, and Harry and Hermione looked up at him, shocked. "Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, not it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."

Hagrid's bushy eyebrows rose at the disbelieving expression on Hermione's face.

"No good sitting worryin' abou' it," he said. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did, Harry."

The previous day, Harry had been asked by Dumbledore to tell him what, exactly, happened in the graveyard. Obviously, Dumbledore had assumed that Harry didn't mind Hagrid knowing about it. He was right, of course.

Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry.

"Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."

Harry smiled back at him. "What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" he asked. "I heard that he'd sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him that night."

"Got a little job fer me over the summer," Hagrid said. "Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no not even ter you two. Olympe, Madame Maxime ter you, might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."

Harry hummed as he stared at Hagrid. Then, he connected the dots. "Ah, envoys to the giants?" Seeing Hagrid flinch in surprise, Harry grinned. He'd hit the nail on the head. "Don't worry, Hagrid. If you don't want to tell, I won't ask. Just promise me that you'll be careful, okay?"

Hagrid smiled down at Harry and nodded. "I promise, Harry. Now... who'd like ter come an' visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin'! Jokin'!" he added hastily, seeing the looks on their faces.

–

It was with a heavy heart that Harry packed his trunk up in the dormitory on the night before his return to Privet Drive. He was dreading the Leaving Feast, which was usually a cause for celebration, when the winner of the Inter-House Championship would be announced. He had avoided being in the Great Hall when it was full ever since he had left the hospital wing, preferring to eat when it was nearly empty to avoid the stares of his fellow students.

When he and Hermione entered the Hall, they saw at once that the Hall was decorated with Gryffindor colors. No doubt the 300 points Harry won for bravery had greatly tipped the scale in Gryffindor's facor.

The real Mad-Eye Moody was at the staff table now, his wooden leg and his magical eye back in place. He was extremely twitchy,

jumping every time someone spoke to him. Harry couldn't blame him. Moody's fear of attack was bound to have been increased by his ten-month imprisonment in his own trunk. Professor Karkaroff's chair was empty. Harry wondered, as he sat down with the other Gryffindors, where Karkaroff was now, and whether Voldemort had caught up with him.

Madame Maxime was still there. She was sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly together. Further along the table, sitting next to McGonagall, was Snape. His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment as Harry looked at him. His expression was difficult to read. He looked as sour and unpleasant as ever. Harry continued to watch him, long after Snape had looked away.

Harry had great trust in Dumbledore, and he knew that the man would never risk his students getting harmed. If he believed that Snape was no longer a Death Eater, then there was only a point-one percent chance that he was wrong. Harry only wondered what could have convinced Dumbledore that he was truly repentant...

Harry's musings were ended by Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

"The end," Dumbledore said, looking around at them all, "of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the true acts of bravery of a student. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to save Cedric Diggory, and bring them both back to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured his name and drank to him, but through a gap in the standing figures, Harry saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and many of the other Slytherins had remained defiantly in their seats, their goblets untouched. Dumbledore, who after all possessed no magical eye, did not see them.

"Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter were almost murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so, either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that this event was simply a horrible accident is an insult to both Harry and Cedric."

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now... or almost every face. Over at the Slytherin table, Harry saw Draco Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle. Harry felt a hot, sick swoop of anger in his stomach, and he forced himself to look back at Dumbledore.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened, of Lord Voldemort's return, such ties are more important than ever before."

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, Harry noticed, looked wary, almost frightened, as if he expected Dumbledore to say something harsh.

"Every guest in this Hall," Dumbledore said, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again, in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all, if our aims are identical and out hearts are open.

"It is my belief, and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken, that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly a the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder.

"Remember them. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what it easy, remember what happened to those who were good, and kind, and brave, because they strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember them all."

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	5. Chapter 5

**From now on, the chapters will be around 20,000 words long! Why did I decide this, one might wonder. Because I want reviews! They are nourishment for my soul!**

**Enjoy!**

–

Harry's trunk was packed, and Hedwig was back in her cage on top of it. Harry was standing alone in the Gryffindor dormitory, looking down at the wrapped package on his bed. Slowly, he tore off the paper wrapping, and found himself staring down at a very beautiful staff. It was, Harry noticed happily, made of holly, and the top of the staff looked like a lion's head facing straight up, with the coal orb in its mouth.

He picked up the staff, and immediately felt a comforting warmth in his fingers and chest. He felt more compatible with the staff than he had with his old wand.

Smiling, Harry put his walking stick down on the bed and motioned toward the wrapping paper with his staff. The Vanishing Charm, which was meant to only vanish the wrapping paper, seemed amplified by the staff, as not only the wrappings disappeared, but also the walking stick, and Harry's bed.

His eyes widening, Harry looked down at his staff in wonder. Yes, this was definitely worth the twenty Galleons he would pay for it.

Quickly casting a levitation charm on his trunk and Hedwig's cage, this time making sure to restrain himself, Harry limped out of the dormitory, and headed down to the crowded entrance hall, where he found Hermione waiting with the rest of the fourth years for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade station. It was another beautiful summer's day. Harry supposed that Privet Drive would be hot and leafy, its flower beds a riot of color, when he arrived there that evening. The thought gave him at least some relief. Even if he'd be stuck there the whole summer, he'd still be able to go out and admire nature.

"'Arry!"

Harry looked around, to see Fleur hurrying up the steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds, Harry could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbarons carriage was about to take off, it seemed.

"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," Fleur said as she reached him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's already very good," Harry said with a smile, shaking Fleur's hand. "But one can never improve too much, yeah?"

Fleur smiled a brilliant smile and nodded. "Good-bye, 'Arry," she said, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you! I'll write you zis summer!"

Harry smiled as he watched Fleur hurry back across the lawns to Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight. He and Hermione looked over to the Durmstrang ship, which was visible down at the lake.

"Do you think they will get back okay without Karkaroff?" Hermione asked, sounding concerned.

"Karkaroff did not steer," a gruff voice said from behind them. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork."

Krum had come, no doubt to say good-bye to Hermione.

"Could I have a vord?"

"Oh... yes, alright," Hermione said, looking slightly flustered, a look that intensified when she saw Harry's smirk as she followed Krum through the crowd and out of sight.

"Harry!"

Harry glanced back, to see Cedric jogging into the entrance hall from the lawns, with Cho following closely behind him.

"Cedric," Harry greeted with a smile as he shook the Hufflepuff's hand. "How are you?"

"Better than you, I reckon," Cedric said, looking down at Harry's knee, looking a little concerned.

"Don't worry about it," Harry waved him off. "It just hurts occasionally. You take care of yourself this summer, yeah?"

"You too," Cedric said, smiling. He patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'll see you next year, Harry!"

With that Cedric left, and Harry watched him go, a smile on his face. After a few more minutes, Hermione returned with Krum.

"I like you, and Diggory," Krum said abruptly to Harry. "You two are alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I am from Durmstrang, with Karkaroff," he added, scowling.

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" Harry asked curiously, and Krum shrugged. He held out a hand as Fleur had done and shook Harry's hand.

–

Roughly one month later, in the dark and dank kitchen of the ancestral of home of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, the organization known as the Order of the Phoenix sat gathered at the kitchen table. This organization was a group formed and led by Albus Dumbledore, dedicated to fighting Lord Voldemort. This group had been reassembled as soon as news reached Dumbledore of Voldemort's resurrection.

Among others, the Order of the Phoenix included such members as Arthur and Molly Weasley, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody (the real one), Severus Snape, a prominent Auror by the name of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dedalus Diggle, and many more. The reason for this meeting, however, wasn't Voldemort...

"What is the situation with Harry?" Dumbledore asked concernedly. Another Auror, this one a young woman with a pale, heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short, spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet, spoke.

"He's doing magic, Professor," she said, scratching her head. "I don't know how he could without getting a warning, but he is. He's either practicing or walking around every time I guard him."

"Same here," Dedalus Diggle said, fiddling with the hat in his hands. "All day, just practicing, practicing, practicing."

"He's become quite powerful, Albus," Remus Lupin said softly, a smile on his face. "He hardly ever needs his staff anymore. His wandless skills are improving greatly."

"Yes, I suspected as much," Dumbledore said, smiling, his eye twinkling madly.

"The boy knows, Dumbledore," Moody growled as his magical eye spun wildly in its socket. "He knows that he's being guarded. He's sharp, that one."

"Of course he does," Dumbledore said with amusement. "He has, in fact, sent me three letters so far, I believe, complaining about how, and I quote him now, 'the violet-haired one keeps stumbling over Aunt Petunia's roses.'"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes fell on the spiky-haired young woman, who blushed in embarrassment. Then, she seemed to realize something.

"H-Hey! How could he know my hair color? I always wear Mad-Eye's Invisibility Cloak!"

"Apparently, his skills as a Sensor have improved greatly," Lupin said happily. Harry had always been his favorite student, and he was overjoyed to hear about Harry's improvements. So was Sirius, judging by the wide grin he was sporting.

"But why can he use magic freely?" Mrs. Weasley asked curiously.

"Because I taught Harry last year of a way to block the Trace," Dumbledore answered. "I did so because I believe that it would be for the best if Harry was allowed to practice as much as possible." He pondered for a while, then spoke again, "Has he been doing anything else?"

"Well, if he's not walking or practicing, he just spends the days in his room, looking through books and parchments, muttering to himself," the young Auror said, shrugging. "He's been ordering book after book. Almost got enough to rival the Hogwarts library by now."

The people in the kitchen shared chuckles at that.

"Now, I believe it is time for Harry to come here," Dumbledore said.

–

The young Auror's statement was true. Harry Potter's room, though it had always been a mess, was now littered with books and parchments, some parchments crumbled and half-burned, some soaked with ink. Empty ink bottles were also scattered here and there on the floor, and there was even a piece of parchment filled with notes inside Hedwig's empty cage. That particular piece of parchment had scrawled at the bottom, _Only good for owl-droppings_, showing that the notes were completely useless, in Harry's opinion.

Currently, Harry sat at his desk, looking over a map of Western Europe, a quill in hand. There were several circles drawn in the sea around the British Isles, with question marks and notes surrounding them. Harry, his face lit up only by a candle on his desk, was muttering under his breath, scribbling another note.

"No, that's... Damn it all... This... No... Hm..."

Soundlessly, Hedwig swooped in through the open window and landed on her perch in her cage, a dead frog in her mouth.

"Good girl," Harry spoke without looking back at the owl, who hooted. Rubbing his temple, Harry put another circle on the map. "Bagshot's theories and Mordun's theories put it here, but Jackson puts it down here... But that can't be right..."

Harry looked up from the map and stared at the wall in front of him, right next to the open window. On the wall, he'd scrawled something else, something that had popped into his head. At first, he had thought it was just some random poem he had thought up when he was young, but when he remembered it, he heard it in Merlin's voice.

_Beyond the broken piece of Alba,_

_Look to Cynosūra, shining bright,_

_If, at midnight, you look for the rarest aurora,_

_The path to Avalon will be alight._

"Broken piece..." Harry muttered as he kept staring at the poem. He knew the answer to it. He instinctively knew the answer. He just couldn't access it... It was on the verge of driving him mad... He just couldn't figure this one out! "Hedwig, what do you think?" Harry asked, looking back at the owl, who just finished gulping down the toad.

Hedwig hooted softly and flew over to perch herself on Harry's leg. Harry absentmindedly started stroking her feathers as he looked at the poem once more.

"It's here, Hedwig... It's in my head, but I just can't find it... I know I can find it if I try hard enough... It's just difficult... so very difficult..."

Slowly, Harry drifted off to sleep, his hand slowly ceasing its movements until it finally stopped and fell uselessly to his side, his eyes drifting shut.

As soon as he fell asleep, though, he immediately woke up with a jerk, startling Hedwig, who flew back to her cage, hooting indignantly.

"Sorry, girl!" Harry apologized as he stared down at the map. "Broken piece... The Outer Hebrides! How could I not have seen it?" he muttered, staring down at the island chain off the north north-western coast of Scotland. "Then, the aurora..."

Harry shot out of his chair and started looking through book after book on his bed. Picking up one labeled _Rare Astronomical Phenomena_, he opened it and started flipping through it, his eyes scanning each page very quickly.

"Here it is!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at one of the pages. "Buller's Aurora, discovered by Charlus Buller in 1325, only visible from Ballycastle at midnight! It has been dubbed the 'rarest aurora!' And it's considered the world's only eternal aurora..."

Harry got off the bed and rushed up to his desk again, picking up his quill and jutting down notes on the map, then drawing several lines on it, muttering to himself once more.

"Cynosūra is the North Star... That coincides with the aurora... This... This should put it somewhere around here..."

Harry stared down at the circle he just drew on the map. Then, he nodded to himself. "Ballycastle."

As Harry relished in his discovery, he suddenly heard, quite distinctly, a crash coming from downstairs. He sat bolt upright, listening intently. The Dursleys had left earlier that day, but they couldn't be back. They'd said they probably wouldn't be back until early in the morning...

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Harry heard voices. Neatly folding the map on his desk and pocketing it, Harry grabbed the holly walking stick with a gold knob in the shape of a lion's head that was leaned against his desk. It wasn't real gold, of course, but it looked very much like it. The walking stick immediately elongated, and the gold knob changed into holly, while a coal orb encased in glass, from the looks of it, formed in its gaping maw.

Harry slowly limped toward the door, listening. He held his hand out toward the door and slowly turned it, hearing a slow click that showed that the door, which had been locked by Uncle Vernon earlier, was unlocked. Next Harry sent out a magical pulse, and was relieved with the 'echo' that came back to him.

Making no effort to sneak, Harry opened the door and walked out into the dark upstairs landing.

"You're surprisingly relaxed, boy," came a growl from the shadowy hall below. Harry smiled as he leaned against his staff.

"Do I have something to worry about, Professor Moody?" he asked.

"I don't know so much about 'Professor,'" the voice growled, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry limped down the stairs, still smiling. "Hey, Moony."

A soft chuckle was heard. "Hello, Harry. I see your magical sensing is improving greatly," the voice of Remus Lupin said, sounding quite pleased.

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" a third voice asked, this one completely unfamiliar, but Harry recognized her core as the violet-haired woman who had a tendency of butchering Aunt Petunia's roses. "Lumos."

A wand tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry hummed as he looked around at the crowd. He recognized most of the people there, but not all of them.

Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill. He had more gray hair than when Harry had said good-bye to him at the end of third year, and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Harry, who saluted him.

"He looks just like I thought he would up close," the violet-haired witch said, holding her lit wand aloft. In Harry's opinion, she was easily the prettiest one there, and for that, he could forgive her for the rose murders. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," a bald, black wizard standing farthest back said. He had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear. "He looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back said. "Lily's eyes."

Mad-Eye Moody was squinting squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes.

"Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

Lupin looked like he was about to say something, but Harry beat him to it, squinting right back at Moody mockingly.

"And how do I know you're Moody? Pardon the rudeness, but not long ago, I spent nine months being taught by an imposter. Death Eaters have never been accused of being smart. They might be stupid enough to try the same trick twice." Then, he looked around. "And seeing as this house is protected, I think I'm the one who should be suspicious. Moony! What do I hear around dementors?"

Lupin's smile faded at that, and he looked solemn. "Your parents' last moments." Some people in the hallways gasped in either surprise or sympathy at that. "What form does your Patronus take?"

"Prongs," Harry answered immediately.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," Lupin said. As Harry started descending the stairs, Lupin said, "How's your knee?"

"It aches in the presence of idiots," Harry lied, looking completely serious. "And seeing as I've spent the last month here... well..."

Lupin looked like he was fighting to suppress a smile, and failing to do so, as Harry moved over to the short wizard he recognized as Dedalus Diggle.

"Hello, Mr. Diggle. It's nice to meet you again," he said, shaking the wizard's hand, much to his obvious delight.

"Likewise, Mr. Potter! Likewise!"

"You guys are lucky the Dursleys are out," Harry said as he looked around at the group. Their looks alone would've given Uncle Vernon two consecutive heart attacks, no doubt.

"Lucky, ha!" the violet-haired woman said. "It was me that lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they'd been short-listed for the All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now... Or they think they are."

Harry imagined the look on Uncle Vernon's face when he realized that there was no All-England Best-Kept Suburban Lawn Competition, and snorted, then burst out laughing, quite loudly. The others in the hallway simply stood and watched him, allowing him to laugh, no doubt thinking that he needed it in these dark times. Slowly, Harry started to calm down, and took a deep breath, snickering every now and then.

"Ooh, that was a good one," he said with another snort. "You gotta love karma."

"We'll be leaving soon," Lupin said as he patted Harry on the shoulder. "We're just waiting for the all-clear."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as he was led into the kitchen. The violet-haired woman flicked on the lights and let the Lumos die down.

"Somewhere secure, undetectable," Lupin said, and Harry nodded slowly.

"Number Twelve, then?" he asked, seeing the people go wide-eyed. "Dumbledore sent me a letter a few days ago, asking me to burn it as soon as I'd memorized the address written on it."

"Well, did you?" Moody asked, now sitting at the kitchen table, swigging from a hip flask, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in the Dursley's many labor-saving appliances.

"Of course I did, and I'm gonna have to take a whiff of that," Harry said, gesturing for the hip flask. Moody glared at him, then reluctantly held out the hip flask. Harry leaned in and, making sure not to touch it, sniffed the contents of the hip flask. Smelling something strong, he noticed that it wasn't Polyjuice and nodded.

"Ah, introductions," Lupin said and pointed toward Moody. "This is Alastor Moody. And this is Nymphadora-"

"_Don't_ call me Nymphadora, Remus," the violet-haired witch said with a shudder. "It's Tonks."

"-Nymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," Lupin finished.

"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you 'Nymphadora,'" Tonks muttered.

"And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt," Lupin indicated the tall, black wizard, who bowed, "Elphias Doge," the wheezy-voiced wizard nodded, "you've already met Dedalus Diggle, it seems, Emmeline Vance," a stately-looking witch in an emerald-green shawl inclined her head, "Sturgis Podmore," a square-jawed wizard with thick, straw-colored hair winked, "and Hestia Jones." A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved from next to the toaster.

Harry nodded to each of them in greeting, wondering to himself why there were so many of them there. After all, wouldn't it be better with a smaller group, so as to be discreet?

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," Lupin said, as if he'd read Harry's mind, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," Moody said darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us if it's safe to set off," Lupin said, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"Very _clean_, aren't they, these Muggles?" Tonks said as she looked around the kitchen with great interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just like with wizards?"

"It's because of fear," Harry said, shrugging. Getting nothing but curious looks, he explained. "My Aunt hates magic, sees it as unnatural. She doesn't want to seem unnatural, or out of the norm. That's why she makes sure to always keep a clean house, to assure herself that, to visitors, nothing would look abnormal, even though the cleanliness in itself is very unnatural."

Tonks let out an "Ah," as she went back to inspecting the kitchen, shaking her head and muttering about "strange Muggles..."

"Damn it!" Moody growled in anger suddenly, and Harry looked to see that his magical eye was stuck pointing at the ceiling. Moody put a hand up to his magical eye. "It keeps sticking, ever since that scum wore it," he muttered, and with a nasty squelching sound, much like a plunger being pulled from a sink, he popped out his eye.

"Mad-Eye, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" Tonks asked conversationally.

"Get me a glass of water, would you, Harry?" Moody asked.

Harry waved his hand. A clean glass floated out of the dishwasher and froze under the faucet in the sink. The faucet started pouring water into the glass, and once it was full, it was turned off, and floated over to Moody, who took it.

"Cheers," Moody said and dropped the magical eyeball into the water, prodding it up and down. The eye whizzed around, staring at them all in turn. "I want three-hundred-and-sixty degrees visibility on the return journey."

"Exactly how are we getting to London?"

"Brooms," Lupin said. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network, and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey."

"Remus says you're pretty good on a broom," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep voice.

"He's excellent," Lupin said, smiling brightly.

"Yeah, but I'm better off a broom," Harry said with a smirk. Lupin checked his watch.

"Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Harry," he said, "we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks said brightly.

She followed Harry back into the hall and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.

"Funny place," she said, "you're right, it's a bit too clean, unnatural even. Oh, this is better," she added as they entered Harry's bedroom and he turned on the light.

Not only was the room littered in books, parchments, quills and empty ink bottles, his trunk was open, revealing a jumbled mixture of Muggle clothes and wizard's robes that had spilled onto the floor around it.

"Well, I didn't know you guys were coming," Harry defended when he saw Tonks looking over the mess. Then, he looked at Hedwig. "Girl, we're going to London. Go to Sirius, and wait for me there, okay?"

Hedwig hooted in confirmation and flew out the window as Harry moved his staff in a wide arch over the room. Everything, books, parchments, quills, clothes, pretty much everything that wasn't bolted down flew into his trunk, the books stacking high and making it impossible to close it.

"Ah..." Harry muttered as Tonks gaped at the efficiency and ease with which Harry had managed to pack his things. Pointing his staff at the pile of books in the trunk, Tonks gaped even wider as the books started sinking into the trunk, a clear sign of an expansion charm being used.

Now, it was Harry's turn to gape, as he saw Tonks' hair suddenly changing color. The purple seemed to pour off it, leaving it snow white.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked, to which Tonks blinked.

"Do what?" she asked, then caught her reflection in the mirror. "Oh, that, I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said and looked herself over, turning her head so that she could see her hair from all directions. "It means that I can change my appearance at will," she added, seeing Harry's confused expression in the mirror. "I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great."

"You're an Auror?" Harry asked, impressed. Harry had only considered two occupations for him once he finished school, either Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, or Auror.

"Yeah," Tonks said, looking proud. "Kingsley is as well. He's a bit higher up than I am, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking, I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?"

"That's pretty cool," Harry said, remembering the term Metamorphmagus just as he was about to ask a question. But that question was unnecessary once he remembered that Metamorphmagi were born, not trained.

Harry slammed his trunk shut and locked it with a snap of his fingers. Then, he held his hand out toward Hedwig's cage. The cage soared toward him, shrinking in the process, and was around the size of a cricket ball as he caught it and pocketed it.

"Got everything?" Tonks asked. "Cauldron? Broom? Wow! A _Firebolt_?"

Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick on Harry's bed. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius, an international standard broomstick.

"And I'm still riding a Comet Two-Sixty," Tonks said enviously. "Ah well... Got everything now? Okay, let's go. Locomotor Trunk."

Harry's trunk rose a few inches into the air. Holding her wand like a conductor's baton, Tonks made it hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them. Harry followed her down the stairs, carrying his broomstick.

Back in the kitchen, Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning that it made Harry feel sick. Kingsley and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Lupin was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.

"Excellent," Lupin said, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry-"

"They won't," Harry said.

"That you're safe-"

"That'll just depress them."

"-and you'll see them next summer."

"Woah, let's not make any hasty decisions here," Harry said, holding up his hands.

Lupin smiled at that, but didn't say anything.

"Come here, boy," Moody said gruffly, beckoning Harry toward him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

"No need for that, is there?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, you guys will probably flying in a protective formation around me, and seeing as I'm the only wizard who lives here, it will be pretty obvious that you're protecting me. Besides, I don't fly too well invisible."

"You'll do as I say," Moody growled and rapped Harry hard on his head with his wand. Harry felt as though Moody had just cracked an egg on his head. Cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks said appreciatively, staring at Harry's midriff.

Harry looked down at his body, or rather, what had been his body, 'cause it didn't look anything like his anymore. It wasn't invisible, but it had taken on the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit behind him, like a chameleon.

"I'll pass," Harry said, snapping his fingers and feeling that exact same sensation again, only this time, it was warm, instead of cold, and the others stared as the Disillusionment fell off him. "Listen, guys, if we run into trouble, I will be fighting anyway, so why bother trying to hide me, and don't you even think of telling me I'm too young, Moony," he added, staring hard at Lupin, who looked to have been about to say something. "I haven't been training ceaselessly all this time so that others can fight or die protecting me, alright?"

Harry leaned against his staff and looked over the visitors expectantly, daring them to object.

Moody glared at Harry, who stared right back at him.

"You know, compared to Voldemort, your glares are very weak," Harry noticed calmly, ignoring the flinching from most of the people in the room. Dedalus Diggle gasped in fright and dropped his top hat.

"Come on," Moody growled as he unlocked the back door with his wand, obviously allowing Harry to have his way. Harry held out his hand toward his trunk and, much like Hedwig's cage, it soared toward him, shrinking in the process. As he caught it, Harry pocketed the shrunken trunk and followed Moody and the others out onto Uncle Vernon's beautifully kept lawn.

"Clear night," Moody grunted, his magical eye scanning the heavens. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barked at Harry, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed-"

"I'll fight," Harry said, but Moody ignored him.

"-the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us, and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over. Keep flying east and they'll join you."

Harry twitched in anger. Moody was acting as if Harry was defenseless. He was planning on hiding his latest special ability, but he felt a sudden urge to prove to Moody that he wasn't just a weak little kid who couldn't handle himself.

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," Tonks said, shaking her head.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," Moody growled. "Our job's to deliver him safely to headquarters and if we die in the attempt-"

"No one's going to die," Kingsley said in his deep, calming voice.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" Lupin said sharply, pointing into the sky.

Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Harry recognized them at once as wand sparks. Grinning, he turned to Tonks.

"Tonks, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Here," Harry said, and with that, he tossed his Firebolt to the shocked Auror, who blinked. Answering her unasked question, he said, "Who wants to see me break some laws of magic?"

With that, Harry slowly rose into the air. One of the fundamental laws of magic stated that a wizard could only fly using a vehicle, which itself could only have a flying charm. Harry, however, had once more proven that what was considered impossible for most was, in fact, possible for him.

"Can you keep up?" Harry asked with a smirk as he floated in the air, looking around at the shocked faces of his 'guard.' Noticing that they were all still staring at him, while more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them, Harry pointed upward. "Another signal, isn't it?"

Lupin blinked and looked up, snapping out of his shock. "Second signal, let's go!"

They all kicked off the ground, and Harry shot into the air, following behind Tonks, who was riding on his Firebolt.

The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks, and every thought of... well, everything, was swept from his mind as though the rush of air had blown it out of his head. He felt as though his heart was going to explode with pleasure. He was flying again, flying away from Privet Drive as he'd been fantasizing about all summer, he was going home... For a few glorious moments, all his problems seemed to recede into nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" Moody shouted from behind him. Tonks swerved and Harry followed her, quite thoroughly enjoying the view both in front of and below him. "We need more height... Give it another quarter of a mile!"

Harry's eyes watered in the chill as they soared upward. He could see nothing below now but tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps. Two of those tiny lights might belong to Uncle Vernon's car... The Dursleys would be heading back to their empty house right now, full of rage about the nonexistent lawn competition... and Harry laughed aloud aloud at the thought, though his voice was drowned by the flapping of the others' robes, and the whoosh of the wind in their ears as they sped through the air. He had not felt this alive in a month, or this happy...

"Bearing south!" shouted Mad-Eye. "Town ahead!"

They soared right, so that they did not pass directly over the glittering spiderweb of lights below.

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" Moody called, and at that point, the frozen and shivering Harry felt very tempted to throw a rather nasty curse over his shoulder...

"We're not going through clouds!" Tonks shouted angrily. "We'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

They altered their course every now and then according to Mad-Eye's instructions. Harry's eyes were screwed up against the rush of icy wind that was starting to make his ears ache. He could remember being this cold on a broom only once before, during the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff in his third year, which had taken place in a storm. The guard around him was circling continuously like giant birds of prey. Harry lost track of time. He wondered how long they had been flying... it felt like an hour at least.

"Turning southwest!" Moody yelled. "We want to avoid the motorway!"

Harry was now so chilled that he thought longingly for a moment of the snug, dry interiors of the cars streaming along below, then, even more longingly, of traveling by Floo powder. It might be uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces but it was at least warm in the flames.

Kingsley Shacklebolt swooped around him, bald pate and earring gleaming slightly in the moonlight... Now Emmeline Vance was on his right, her wand out, her head turning left and right... then she too swooped over him, to be replaced by Sturgis Podmore...

"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouted.

"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" Tonks screamed from the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off course we're not

going to get there until next week! We're nearly there now!"

"Time to start the descent!" came Lupin's voice. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

Harry followed Tonks into a dive. They were heading for the largest collection of lights he had yet seen, a huge, sprawling, crisscrossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patches of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew, until Harry could see individual headlights and streetlamps, chimneys, and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much due to the cold, only now remembering that he knew spells for that. Waving his hand over himself, Harry felt a warm feeling spreading in him, starting in the chest and expanding.

"Here we go!" Tonks called, and a few seconds later she had landed. Harry touched down right behind her on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Clicking his tongue, Harry looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming. Some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front-steps.

Moody was rummaging in his cloak, his gnarled hand clumsy with cold.

"Got it," he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it.

The nearest streetlamp went out with a pop. He clicked the un-lighter again. The next lamp also went out. He kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only light in the square came from curtained windows and the crescent moon overhead.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," Moody growled, pocketing the Put-Outer. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now, come on, quick."

He took Harry by the arm and led him from the patch of grass, across the road and onto the pavement. Lupin and Tonks followed, the rest of the guard flanking them, all with their wands out.

"Now, think of what Dumbledore wrote," Moody ordered gruffly, stopping Harry in front of a building numbered eleven. _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London_, Dumbledore had written in the letter.

No sooner had Harry started focusing on that, than a battered door emerged out of nowhere between numbers elven and thirteen, followed swiftly by dirty walls and grimy windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated, pushing those on either side out of its way.

As this was the first time Harry had seen what it looked like when learning a secret to the Fidelius, he nodded, looking impressed. "That's cool," he said with a low whistle.

"Come on, hurry," Moody growled, prodding Harry in the back.

Harry walked up the worn stone steps, staring at the newly materialized door. Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. Harry heard any loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain, and within seconds, the door opened with a creak.

"Get in quick, Harry," Lupin whispered. "But don't go far inside, and don't touch anything."

Harry stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. He could smell damp, dust, and a sweetish, rotting smell. The place had the feeling of a derelict building... He looked over his shoulder and saw the others filing in behind him. Moody was standing on the top step and releasing the balls of light the Put-Outer had stolen from the streetlamps. They flew back to their bulbs, and the square beyond glowed momentarily with orange light, before Moody limped inside and closed the front door so that the darkness in the hall became complete.

"Well, this is... er... cozy..." Harry muttered, hearing Tonks snort.

"Now, stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here," Moody whispered.

"Why are we whispering?" Harry whispered to Tonks, who he found was standing next to him, as Moody fiddled with something. He heard a soft hissing noise, and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered to life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling wallpaper and threadbare carpet of a long, gloomy hallways, where a cobwebby chandelier glimmered overhead, and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls.

"We don't want to wake anything up."

"Oh, really?" Harry whispered, a smirk slowly growing on his face. Before he could make any noise, however, hurried footsteps were heard, and Mrs. Weasley, emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She was beaming in welcome as she hurried toward them, though Harry noticed that she was rather thinner and paler than she had been last time he had seen her.

"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" she whispered, pulling him into a rib-cracking hug before holding him at arm's length and examining him critically. "You're looking peaky. You need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for dinner, I'm afraid..."

She turned to the gang of wizards behind him and whispered urgently,

"He's just arrived, the meeting's started..."

The wizards behind Harry all made noises of interest and excitement and began filing past Harry toward the door through which Mrs. Weasley had just come. Harry made to follow Lupin, but Mrs. Weasley held him back.

"No, Harry, the meeting's only for members of the Order. Ron and Hermione... Well, Hermione is upstairs, you can wait with her until the meeting's over and then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall," she added in an urgent whisper.

She had obviously decided not to inquire about why Harry and Ron weren't best friends anymore. Either that, or she chose to simply respect Harry's decision.

"What did Tonks mean, not wanting to wake anything-"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting. I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led him on tiptoes past a pair of long, moth-eaten curtains, behind which Harry supposed there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg, they started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed Harry that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snoutlike nose.

Harry's bewilderment deepened with every step he took. What on earth were they doing in a house that looked as though it belonged to the Darkest of wizards?

"Mrs. Weasley, why-"

"Hermione and Ron will... Well, Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash," Mrs. Weasley whispered distractedly. "There," they had reached the second landing, "you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over."

And she hurried off downstairs again.

Harry crossed the dingy landing, turned the bedroom doorknob, which was shaped like a serpent's head, and opened the door.

He caught a brief glimpse of a gloomy high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room, then there was a loud shriek, and his vision was completely obscured by a large quantity of very bushy hair. Hermione had thrown herself onto him in a hug that nearly knocked him flat.

"HARRY! I didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with me? I bet you have, I know my letters were useless, but I couldn't tell you anything, Dumbledore made me swear I wouldn't, oh, I've got so much to tell you, and-"

"Calm down, Hermione," Harry said as he gently eased the girl off him and pushed the door closed. Hermione, still beaming, let go of Harry, but before she could say anything, there was a soft whooshing sound, and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled. "Hey, Hedwig. Have a good flight?"

Hedwig clicked her beak and nibbled his ear affectionately as Harry stroked her feathers.

"Harry, I'm really sorry I haven't been more informative. But Dumbledore-"

Harry held up a hand to stop Hermione, smiling. "He no doubt asked you not to tell me because he didn't want too many people giving me information," he said, to which Hermione blinked in confusion. He explained, "Dumbledore and I have been corresponding this last month."

"Oh," Hermione said, stunned. Harry thought she'd obviously believed that Dumbledore was trying to keep him in the dark, or something.

"Hey, what is the Order of the Phoenix, anyway?" Harry asked as he sat down on one of the beds in the room, and Hedwig flew down to perch herself on his knee. "Dumbledore told me about it in his letters, but he never really told me what it was."

"It's a secret society," Hermione explained, sitting down on the bed next to Harry's. "Dumbledore's in charge, he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."

"Hermione, please, it's Voldemort," Harry said, seeing Hermione flinch at the name. "Fear of the name increases the fear of the thing itself. You need to overcome this."

Hermione nodded. "Alright, it's the people who fought against V-Vol... Vold..."

Harry moved over to Hermione's bed, putting his hand on her shoulder as Hedwig flew up on top of the wardrobe again. "Go on."

"V-Volde... mort... V-Vol-Voldemort!" Hermione eeped as she said the name and clamped her hand over her mouth in shock.

"Again," Harry ordered gently, smiling.

Hermione repeated the name after a lot of hesitation, and Harry's smile turned into a grin.

"See? It's not like he's gonna appear right in front of you just because you say his name," he said, patting Hermione's shoulder. "You're doing great, Hermione. Better than most adults. But I'm not gonna let you leave, or tell you how I flew here without a broom, until you can say the name without a stutter or fear."

This was enough to get Hermione to try harder, it seemed, and she said the name again and again and again, until she could say it, no doubt feeling more and more reassured after each time she said the name.

"Voldemort!" she said finally on the umpteenth try, her voice full of determination, and Harry applauded softly, moving back to sit down on the other bed again. "Now, tell me! The Laws of Magic dictates that-"

"A wizard is only able to charm objects to fly, and not himself," Harry finished for Hermione with a nod. "But throughout last year, I've, as you no doubt have noticed, become more familiar with my magic. I can feel my magic as though it's just another of my limbs," he explained as he thought about how to explain this to Hermione. "You're familiar with rocket propulsion, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Muggle-born, after all."

"Well, rockets create thrust by expelling mass backwards in a high speed jet. I'm doing basically that. I'm expelling my magic in its raw form out of my body to create a wind thrust. In fact, I'll do it right now," Harry said and did just that. He slowly started to rise into the air in front of the gaping Hermione. Below him, on the bed cover, it was as if Harry was holding a blow dryer over it. "Notice how it looks as though I'm suffering from a comically massive flatulence problem?"

Hermione, though her awe, managed a snort at that, but immediately went back to studying Harry's flying. "Could you teach me how to do that?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think it's possible if you're so out of tune with your magic that you have to use a wand. I don't think even Dumbledore could do it, as he isn't exactly a master at wandless magic. And now, my feet." Harry 'stood' so that he was standing straight in the air. "I am now creating wind thrust under my feet, and doing the same around my body to stabilize myself. As for that walking ability I used in the first task last year, I was basically expelling my magic out of my feet to create a block, kind of like creating a floating brick under my feet."

Hermione, her brilliant mind working quickly, seemed to easily be able to figure out how he did it. "So, you just paved a road, so to speak?"

"Exactly," Harry said, grinning. "I paved an invisible road of magic in the air, which could only be touched by those possessing my magic, as in, only me."

"This is amazing," Hermione said as she knelt on the floor, holding her hand under Harry's foot. "You're actually releasing such concentrated magic that you're creating wind. Harry, this is very advanced magic!"

"Now, enough about my skills. What about the Order? Who's in it?"

"Well, I've seen about twenty people," Hermione said, sitting down on the bed again. "But I think there's more of them. And don't ask me what goes on in the meetings, because we're not allowed in on them."

"We?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ron, Ginny, Fred, George and I," Hermione explained. "But Fred and George have invented Extendable Ears. They're very useful."

"Extendable Ears?" Harry asked, sitting down in the air and crossing his legs and arms, so that he was sitting in a lotus position. "What are those?"

"Exactly what they sound like. They're ears, connected by a string, which you listen into. Everything the Extendable Ear hears, you hear."

"That's pretty cool," Harry said, nodding. "But then you must have heard something, right?"

"We know some of the Order are following known Death Eaters and watching them, while some are working on recruiting more people to the Order-"

"Which doesn't seem to be working very well, with Fudge spouting his shite about us being liars?" Harry asked, only to get a glare from Hermione.

"Language, Harry!"

"Oh, come off it, Hermione, don't you think we have more important things to worry about than foul language?" Harry asked, snickering.

"Anyway, they've also been guarding something important, I think you. We've heard them talking about some kind of guard duty."

"Who have been in on that?" Harry asked, humming as he rested his chin against his fist, thinking hard.

"Tonks, Kingsley, that Sturgis Podmore, Mr. Diggle, Mr. Weasley-"

"Then it's something other than me," Harry said, to which Hermione blinked.

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I've never sensed Mr. Weasley watching me, or Kingsley," Harry said with a shrug. "I've sensed Tonks, Podmore, and Diggle, though, and a whole swarm of other little flies buzzing around, watching my every move."

"Harry, that's unfair," Hermione chided. "They've only been trying to protect you."

"But I don't need that much protection," Harry said with a sigh. "I mean, every time Moody hasn't been watching me, I've slipped away from them to do my more intense training somewhere more private."

Slowly, Hermione nodded. Harry had a feeling that she wanted to ask what training he'd done, but she probably knew that it was a secret, so she didn't say anything.

They sat in silence for a while, then, "Have you been reading the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked curiously, and Harry's face darkened as he nodded.

"Oh yeah. I've a word or two to say to them once they finally acknowledge that Voldemort is back. I canceled my subscription and subscribed to the Quibbler instead."

Hermione seemed to choke on her own spit in disbelief as she stared at Harry incredulously, coughing. "The... The Quibbler?" she asked with a laugh. "You read that garbage? It's just full of nonsense, isn't it?"

"So is the Prophet, but at least the Quibbler's articles can make me laugh, and hold some grains of truth to them," Harry said, shrugging again. I-"

Just then, the bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Weasley poked her head inside.

"The meeting's over, you can come... down..." Mrs. Weasley trailed off when she saw Harry floating in the air, looking at her curiously. "Oh my... Tonks told me about it, but... That's very impressive, Harry!" she beamed at him, and Harry was happy she chose to praise his achievements, rather than simply ask questions about it. "Anyway, the meeting is over, and you can come down and have dinner now, everyone's dying to see you, Harry."

Harry nodded and got out of his lotus position, standing up, but still staying a few inches above the ground, then followed Mrs. Weasley out the door, gliding on invisible skates down the dark hallway. Hermione walked next to him, casting envious glances his way, but he only responded with a teasing smirk.

They reached the landing, but before they descended the stairs, Harry held out an arm to stop Hermione walking any farther.

"Look, they're still in the hall," he said, and the both of them looked cautiously over the banisters. The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry's guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very center of the group, Harry saw none other than Snape.

A moment later, however, the people below began to move toward the front door. Sadly, they weren't able to hear anything they had said.

"Snape never eats here," Hermione said as they heard the front door open and then close.

"Thank Merlin for that," Harry said with a smirk as they passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall, and as they did, they saw Lupin, Mrs. Weasley and Tonks at the front door, magically sealing its many locks and bolts behind those who had just left.

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs. Weasley whispered, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across..." Mrs. Weasley once more trailed off when she saw that Harry was floating, and smiled. "Well, if you'd just move silently across the hall, it's through this door here-"

Just then, a crash was heard from behind them.

"Tonks!" Mrs. Weasley cried exasperatedly, turning to look behind her.

"I'm sorry!" Tonks, who was lying flat on the floor, wailed. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over-"

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, earsplitting, bloodcurdling screech.

The mother-eaten velvet curtains Harry had passed earlier had flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which one of the ugliest women he'd ever seen stood, screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured. Then, Harry realized that it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant one he'd ever seen in his life.

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed, and all along the hall behind them, the other portraits awoke and began to scream as well, so that Harry actually screwed up his eyes at the noise and clapped his hands over his ears, completely losing control of his flying and thudding onto the floor. His weak knee gave out from the drop, and he sank to his knees, his staff clattering to the floor as Lupin and Mrs. Weasley darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they wouldn't close, and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as if trying to tear at their faces.

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers?"

Tonks apologized over and over again, at the same time dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor. Mrs. Weasley abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand. Then, a man with long, black hair came charging out of a door facing Harry.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared, seizing the curtain Mrs. Weasley had abandoned.

The old woman's face blanched.

"Yoooou!" she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said... shut... UP!" the man roared, and with a stupendous effort, he and Lupin managed to force the curtains closed again.

The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell as Harry grabbed his staff, Transfiguring it back to a walking stick and getting to his feet, his eyes wide.

Panting slightly and sweeping his long, dark hair out of his eyes, Harry's godfather, Sirius, turned to face him.

"Hello, Harry," he said grimly. "I see you've met my mother."

"Y-Your mum?" Harry asked in disbelief, clearing his throat. "Charming woman..."

"I know, sparkling personality, no?" Sirius said. "We've been trying to get her down for a month, but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

"So, this is your house, then?" Harry asked as they went through the door from the hall and and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind them.

"Yep. It was my parents' house, and I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters, about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

Harry, who had expected a better welcome, noted how hard and bitter Sirius's voice sounded. He followed his godfather to the bottom of the stairs and through a door leading into the basement kitchen.

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, thought which loomed menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchments, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr. Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat, and her husband looked around, jumping to his feet.

"Harry!" Mr. Weasley said, hurrying forward to greet him and shaking his hand vigorously. "Good to see you!"

Over his shoulder, Harry saw Bill, who still wore his long hair in a ponytail, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table.

After Harry had greeted the Weasley children, who followed the adults into the kitchen, they all sat down to eat. After they had eaten both dinner and dessert, from which Harry ate as much rhubarb crumble and custard as he could, Harry lay down his spoon in a lull in the general conversation. Mr. Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed, Tonks, who had been changing the shape of her nose all throughout dinner, was now back to normal and yawning, and Ginny was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling butterbeer corks for Crookshanks to chase.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," Mrs. Weasley said on a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius said, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

"Well, there's no real need, is there?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "I pretty much know what he's been doing, and when I asked what I wanted to know of Hermione, she said that we're not allowed in the Order, so-"

"And she's quite right," Mrs. Weasley said, sitting bolt upright in her chair with every trace of drowsiness gone. "You're too young."

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asked. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen-"

"Hang on!" George interrupted loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" Fred asked angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" George said.

"'You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" Fred said in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother's. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," Sirius said calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand-"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as if readying himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he _needs to know_," Mrs. Weasley said, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George's heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as if following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he _needs to know_, Molly," Sirius said. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back. He has more right than most to-"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Mrs. Weasley argued. "He's only fifteen and-"

"-and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order," Sirius said, "and more than some-"

"No one's denying what he's done!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But he's still-"

"He's not a child!" Sirius said impatiently.

"He's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley said, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not James, Sirius!"

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," Sirius said coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as if you think you've got your best friend back!"

Harry decided, then and there, that enough was enough, and set his hand down on the table, but it was really as though he had thrown something incredibly heavy on it. There was a loud bang as he sent his magic through the table, and everything on it bounced about an inch into the air from the force of it. Everyone stared at Harry in shock, and Harry took this moment to speak.

"Believe me, more than anyone I have always wanted to be just a normal child, to just observe like everyone else, instead of being in the center of things," Harry said with a calm that gave him a somewhat mature air around him. "But the fact of the matter is that I'm _not_ just a normal child, I _am_ in the center of things, and Voldemort has a very, very, very large grudge against me. Now, I'm going to ask Sirius questions, and as someone who understands that I will be in the center of things no matter how much you people try to prevent it, he'll answer me honestly, as it's better I learn things from you than spend unnecessary time learning it for myself. And when he answers, none of you will interrupt, or try to prevent him from answering. And the next person who accuses Sirius of being petty enough to see me as nothing by a replacement from my dad, no matter how much I love them, will be cursed."

"V-Very well," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice cracking, while Sirius looked impressed. "Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was an instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouted.

"Mum, I _want_ to!" Ginny wailed.

"NO!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, standing up, her eyes over-bright. "I absolutely forbid-"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr. Weasley said wearily. "They are of age-"

"They're still at school-"

"But they're legally adults now," Mr. Weasley said in the same tired voice.

Mrs. Weasley was now scarlet in the face.

"I... oh, alright, then, Fred and George can stay, but Hermione-"

"Can stay too," Harry said calmly. "Or leave, if you want, but then, I'll just tell her everything I find out."

Hermione beamed at Harry, while Mrs. Weasley now looked like the vein that was pulsing in her forehead was going to pop any second.

"Fine!" she shouted. "Fine! Ron, Ginny, BED!"

They didn't go quietly. They could hear them raging and storming at their mother all the way up the stairs, and when they reached the hall, Mrs. Black's earsplitting shrieks were added to the din. Lupin hurried off to the portrait to restore calm.

"Like I said, charming woman," Harry said as he listened to the shrieks, trying to pick up the words she used. "She's very repetitive, isn't she?"

"You have no idea," Sirius said with a chuckle. Within moments, Lupin returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again. "Okay, Harry... what do you want to know?" Sirius asked as he leaned back in his chair.

"What are you guarding?" Harry asked immediately, seeing everyone at the table go wide-eyed. "I've learned from Dumbledore that Voldemort doesn't want to draw attention to himself, and that he's focusing most of his time on recruiting the 'old gang,' if you will, giants, werewolves, the likes."

Sirius nodded. "Yes, we believe he's trying to build up his army again. After all, he's certainly not going to try and take the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters-"

"Thirty," Harry corrected, and Sirius blinked.

"What?"

"There were at least thirty of them in the graveyard," Harry said. "Anyway, continue."

"Well, anyway, aside from recruiting, he's after something that he can only get by stealth, and that's what we're guarding. Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"Too vague," Harry said, snorting. "What-"

"That is enough."

Mrs. Weasley had spoken from the shadows beside the door. Harry hadn't noticed her return from taking Ron and Ginny upstairs. Her arms were crossed, and she looked furious.

"I want you in bed, now. All of you," she added, looking around at Fred, George and Hermione.

"I thought I said no interruptions," Harry said, looking back at Sirius.

"No, I refuse to allow anything more. You've gotten plenty of information. Any more, and you might just as well be inducted into the Order straight away!"

"Fine, let me join," Harry said, shrugging. "I want to fight-"

"No."

This time, it wasn't Mrs. Weasley who spoke. It was Lupin.

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards," he said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Fred and George opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you..."

"I can imagine," Harry muttered, sending a betrayed look at Lupin. "Anyway, Sirius, what are you guarding?"

"This really isn't something Fred and George should hear," Sirius said, looking to the twins. "Sorry, guys."

"But-"

"No, Fred, George, go to bed, now!" Mrs. Weasley ordered. Fred and George glared heatedly at her, but complied, since even Sirius requested that they leave, and they disappeared with a bang, apparating away.

"Harry-"

"Sirius," Harry said again, over Mrs. Weasley's voice, showing that he was blatantly ignoring her, much to Sirius's delight. "What are you guarding?"

"A prophecy," Sirius blurted out immediately, looking triumphant. "Hah! I said it, no taking it back!"

"SIRIUS!" Mrs. Weasley shouted in anger. It looked like she was shouting something else, but Harry had already stopped her, Silencing her with a wave of his hand.

"A prophecy? That's it?"

"It involves you and him," Sirius explained. "Don't ask me what it says, though, since no one knows. It's somewhere deep in the Department of Mysteries, and we'd like it to stay there. That's what we've been guarding, other than you."

"If you do as good a job guarding that prophecy as you did guarding me, I fear for its safety."

"What are you talking about?" Tonks asked, affronted.

"Well, all those times when I went into the house to study?" Harry asked, looking at Tonks with a smirk. "I'm guessing none of you saw me leave for my fencing lessons or anything, did you?"

"F-Fencing lessons?" Tonks asked in shock. "When did you go to that?"

"Oh, I've only gone twice while you've been guarding me, Tonks," Harry said, grinning. Then, he hummed and looked at Sirius again. "So, Voldemort most likely won't make a move until he has it?"

"Most likely, no," Sirius said. "That's why we're focusing on protecting it."

"It's late," Lupin said suddenly, stretching. "We'll talk more tomorrow, Harry," he added, seeing Harry about to argue. Harry, nodding, stood up and bid good-night to everyone at the table, and left the kitchen along with Hermione.

"So, who's sleeping in the bed next to mine, then?" Harry asked as they headed up the stairs, Harry flying next to Hermione.

"I am," Hermione said, making Harry's eyes widen. "Oh, it was the only way, since I doubted you wanted to sleep in the same room as Ron. It took a lot of work, but I finally managed to get Mrs. Weasley to allow it."

"Using your womanly charms, no doubt."

–

Harry didn't sleep that night. After Hermione had gone to sleep, Harry got dressed, his trunk and Hedwig's cage un-shrunk by the foot of his bed. He tiptoed out of the room and headed downstairs, past the loud-voiced paintings and down the staircase to the kitchen. A quick magical pulse told him that only Sirius was inside.

Opening the door, Harry grinned at his godfather, who looked up at him in surprise.

"Say, Sirius, how would you like to go on a little trip?"

Immediately, Sirius was on his feet. "What are you talking about? We're not '_allowed to leave the house_,'" he mocked in a horrible imitation of Mrs. Weasley's voice, to which Harry snorted.

"This is too big to be stopped by Mrs. Weasley," Harry said as he reached into his pocket, taking out his folded map. "I found it, Sirius. I really found it."

"Found what?" Sirius asked as he peered curiously down at the map. Harry unfolded it and showed it to Sirius, pointing at the newest circle he'd drawn on it.

"Avalon, Sirius. I've found Avalon."

Sirius stared for a few moments, then snorted. "Bollocks," he said calmly. "Harry, Avalon is a myth. It's not real."

"Sirius, remember during that Hogsmeade weekend, when I told you of my status as a Prime?"

"Yeah?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, Merlin left more than just power. He left a riddle. _Beyond the broken piece of Alba, Look to Cynosūra, shining bright, If, at midnight, you look for the rarest aurora, The path to Avalon will be alight_."

Sirus blinked, but still looked confused. "And that means?"

"Buller's Aurora, the rarest one," Harry said, pointing at Ballycastle, which was marked on the map. "If you stand on the coast here, and look toward Cynoūra, that's the North Star, then the path to Avalon will be lit up, or something like that."

"So, you wanna go to Ballycastle?" Sirius asked, and Harry nodded.

"And we have to get there before midnight, so let's hurry. I've left a note with Hermione, so she'll know that we've just shown a slight disregard for rules. That way, Mrs. Weasley won't think that we're kidnapped or something."

"Very good, Harry," Sirius said, grinning suddenly. "I'm in."

"Oh, and just one little thing..."

"Yes?"

Harry reached into his pocket and took out something that made Sirius flinch. In his hand was a leather collar, and a leash.

"No way..."

"You have to, Paddy. It's the law."

"As the only understandable voice among the canines, I am obligated to inform you that this is considered cruelty by us, and we demand freedom for our people."

Harry shook his head in amusement, then waved the collar in front of Sirius's face. "Do you want to go out or not?"

"Fine..."

And so, twenty minutes later, Harry Potter and his big, black, leashed dog appeared on a deserted beach in Ballycastle, Ireland. The dog looked around, then transformed back into Sirius, who immediately took the collar off, grunting.

"That is really humiliating, you know that?" he asked with a glare at Harry. "And since when do you know how to Apparate?"

Harry just shrugged. "This summer, I just thought that I wanted to get away from the guard without them knowing, and suddenly Apparated. I just memorized the feeling and tried it. It worked."

"You're scary, you know that?" Sirius said with a chuckle as he took a deep breath. "Aah, fresh air feels great. So, what are we- Woah..."

Sirius trailed off as, just then, in the horizon, a green light formed in the sky, rolling in like a green mist. Sirius gaped as he stared at it. Harry knew why. It was truly beautiful. The aurora even had some rare blue in it.

"Harry, aren't these supposed to be mostly only seen in polar areas?" Sirius asked in confusion, blinking.

"That's why they call this the rarest aurora. What's the matter, didn't pay enough attention in Astronomy?"

"No, your father and I were busy designing the Marauder's Map at the time. Anyway, what do we do now?"

"Now, we look to Cynoūra," Harry said as he looked up at the sky, immediately spotting the North Star. For a few minutes, they just stood there, waiting. Then, Harry saw it. The star blinked, and a second later, a very strong beam of light shot straight down from the star, into the ocean. "There we go," Harry said, the path to Avalon alight. Sirius blinked.

"What?"

"You don't see that massive beam of light?"

"I see an aurora," Sirius said with a shrug. Apparently, only Harry could see the light. Shrugging, Harry turned to his godfather, slowly rising into the air.

"Wait here, then."

"Ah, Harry, I think it's best if I go with you," Sirius said, and Harry could see a look of worry pass over his face.

"And how do you suppose you're going to get there?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, Merlin cast enough charms to make Avalon even safer than Hogwarts," he said, then shot off in the direction of the light, ignoring Sirius's exclamation for him to wait.

Harry got closer and closer to the light, as he flew for what felt like hours. No doubt, it took at least one hour. He flew at a speed rivaling the Firebolt, and by now, the coast of Ballycastle had long since faded from view. As he flew, Harry transfigured the walking stick in his hand back into his staff. After what felt like another hour of flying, he reached the light. From afar, the beam of light had looked large enough to engulf all of Grimmauld Place, but up close, it was hardly bigger than a Galleon.

Harry contemplated for a few seconds, pondering what to do. Then, he slowly reached out, and stuck his hand through the beam. With a crack like a gunshot, Harry felt himself get pulled into the light, and down into the water, feeling as if he was apparating, but with no control of it whatsoever.

When the feeling of being squeezed through a tube vanished, and Harry felt his feet touch solid ground, he opened his eyes, and promptly gaped in awe.

He was standing in front of a castle, a castle near the size of Hogwarts, only made of white marble like Gringotts (or at least covered by it), and had many turrets and towers, much like Hogwarts as well, but whereas Hogwarts looked like it had been built without a single plan whatsoever, due to its many strange shapes and turns here and there, this castle was, from what Harry could tell, completely symmetrical. It had two high turrets on each corner of the castle, and a single, high tower in the center of it, reaching almost as high as the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts.

Harry gave off a low whistle and looked around at the rest of Avalon. It was a rather large, nearly perfectly circular island, with the castle at the very edge of it. Harry estimated that the other end of the island was over ninety kilometers away. It was more than big enough for him.

One thing bothered Harry, though. Looking up, he saw the night sky, with a full moon shining brightly. This was strange for two reasons: One, Avalon was at the bottom of the sea, and two, there shouldn't have been a full moon tonight. Harry raised his staff into the air, and was satisfied when he saw the sky ripple, as if he'd dropped a stone into a body of water. The ripples spread, and showed Harry that it was basically forming a dome around the island, showing a sky just like the ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The island was mostly covered in forest, but Harry saw, to the south, endless, plain fields, greener than any grass Harry had ever seen before.

"This is amazing," Harry said with a smile, then turned to the massive silver doors of the castle and walked up to them, wondering how he was going to get them open. As if sensing his thoughts, the doors swung open as he approached. He went inside without a second thought, the doors slamming shut behind him.

Everything was pitch black around Harry, and just as he was about to cast Lumos, a torch on either side of the doors lit up, then more torches lit up all along the marble hallway he was in, both to the left and right, and the corridor in front of him.

"Now," Harry spoke to himself as he headed into the corridor in front of him, humming, "how do I raise this place?"

Harry didn't know exactly how he knew, but he knew where to go. His feet were moving by themselves, and he was foolish to marvel over the amazing looks of the castle, as he didn't exactly memorize where he was going. He vaguely noticed that he was moving up several staircases, and before he knew it, he found himself standing in a cavernous room, brightly lit up by an orb of magic in the domed ceiling, looking like a Lumos trapped in a glass orb. In the back of the room stood a high arch, which reached about seven meters in height by Harry's estimate. It was made of what looked like bone, with nine obsidian chevrons on it, pointing inward. Each chevron had an emerald on it, and each of them were pulsing with energy.

The bone arch had hundreds of rune chains inscribed on it, but as someone who hadn't studied Ancient Runes, save for that one book he read last summer, he didn't know what they did.

In front of Harry, some distance away from the arch, stood a round stone table. The table had a checkered pattern, with hundreds of squares, and inside each square was a different symbol. Harry stood, thinking as he looked over the table, humming. Then, he looked around, trying to find a clue of some sort. He found one in the form of a huge map, hung on the wall to his right, taking up the entire wall. It showed the whole world, and at some places on the map, he noticed that there were plenty of X's, followed by a nine-symbol code.

Pondering this, Harry looked at one of the spots, which was marked in Antarctica, and read the combination (at least that's what he assumed it was), and pressed the symbol on the table that the combination started with.

Nothing happened.

He decided to try again, and this time channeled some magic into the symbol. This time, the symbol lit up, and the chevron at the top of the arch glowed brighter, the symbol showing itself in black upon the emerald. Grinning at his success, Harry finished the combination, and watched as a light sparked in the center of the arch. The spark turned blood red and grew, swirling. It expanded quickly, latching onto the chevrons and encompassing the entire inside of the arch.

He walked away from the table and approached the arch. Throwing all caution into the wind, he closed his eyes and stuck his head inside. It felt as if he was passing through a thin layer of water, and suddenly found his face getting cold.

Harry opened his eyes and saw snow. Lots and lots of snow. He looked down, and saw that his head was sticking through the red surface, and an arch was standing on the snow-covered ice of Antarctica.

"Woah..." Harry muttered and pulled his head back, finding himself once more in the tower of the castle. Grinning, Harry walked up to the table again, and saw a symbol separate from the other symbols, one he hadn't pressed, was glowing. He pressed it, and watched the portal act as if someone had pushed a 'Rewind' button. It went in exact reverse as it disappeared, ending with a spark of light.

"This is gonna take some work," Harry said as his mind went through the hundreds of combinations that he could use, wondering where each combination would take him.

–

_Harry spent the rest of the day there, in that room. The only time he left it was when he opened a portal shown on the map, in Scotland, and Apparated to Ballycastle to pick up a very worried Sirius. He then took Sirius back to the portal and to Avalon, intent on having Sirius, who'd taken Ancient Runes, help him. Sirius, however, didn't spend nearly as much time there as Harry did. Instead, Sirius went and looked around the castle, while Harry studied the portal arch._

–

"I'm hungry," Sirius whined as he sat on the floor of the portal room, staring at the portal. "And like I've said hundreds of times, I have no idea what even half of these runes say."

"Same here," Harry muttered as he stared down at the table, studying the symbols. "But from what I can make out, these are simple coordinates. Look there," he said and pointed at the map, at a spot in America, which was just outside New York, although the map was labeled with other names. Whoever had drawn the map had obviously done so before the white man came to America. Then, Harry pointed at a spot in Turkey. "The first three symbols are the same."

"So that means that it's three symbols for latitude, three for longitude, and three for...?" Sirius trailed off, pondering.

"Well, it's altitude, isn't it?" Harry said, scratching his head. "I mean, a portal this advanced may need you to enter the altitude as well. Otherwise, you might pop one open underground, or in the air, wouldn't you?"

"Hey, open that one," Sirius said, gesturing for a spot in England. "I think that one is safe. I'll go get someone who can actually help us figure this thing out."

Harry nodded and entered the nine-symbol combination. The portal opened, and Sirius stuck his head inside. Apparently seeing that it was in a safe place, he gave Harry a thumbs up, then stepped through. Harry made sure to keep the portal open as he studied the table again.

It took almost half an hour before Sirius returned through the portal. Following him were Lupin, Dumbledore, and Hermione.

"Merlin's beard..." Lupin muttered as he looked around in awe, while Dumbledore looked amused.

"Well done, Harry," he said, his eyes twinkling like crazy.

Hermione's expression was the most amusing, by far. She looked torn between staring in anger at Harry, and in awe at the room.

"Harry James Potter!" she yelled finally, settling on anger for now. "Do you know how worried I've been?"

"What?" Harry asked, nonplussed. "I left you a letter."

"Yeah, 'Hermione, gone to find Avalon. Be back by dinner. Feed my fish.' What fish, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, while the adults just watched the scene in amusement. "Well, did you look?"

"I looked through the entire house trying to find your fish!"

When Harry heard that, he grinned. "Well, in all honesty, I don't have any fish," he admitted. "It was just something for you to do to keep you occupied."

Hermione's jaw dropped, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"However, Harry," Dumbledore said, "that was very irresponsible of you and Sirius. You could have been seen."

"Only the Death Eaters know of Sirius being an Animagus," Harry reasoned, shrugging, "and if we'd met any of them, Sirius I could have handled ourselves, Professor, you know that."

"Although I discourage any more spontaneous field trips, Harry, I must admit that this one was worth the risks," Dumbledore said, nodding as he looked around. "Now, Sirius told me that you needed help from one who had studied Ancient Runes, so Remus, Miss Granger and I came, though I suspect Miss Granger mostly came for the sole purpose of scolding you," he said, his twinkling eyes looking to Hermione, who blushed.

For the next three hours, they all stayed in the portal room, studying the arch and the table. It was Dumbledore who finally figured out the starting point on the map for the symbols. Figuring out the numerical order for the symbols took another hour, and that was Harry's accomplishment. Hermione was the one who figured out the altitude.

"Alright, let me try it," Harry said finally, looking over the map. Picking a spot, he pressed the symbols for latitude, then the symbols for longitude, and finally altitude. As he pressed the final symbol, the portal came to life, and everyone stared at it in silence. Harry, seeing that no one wanted to try it, walked up to the portal and stuck his head inside. What he saw surprised him. He found himself staring at the ends of five wands, held by four Weasleys and a pink-haired Auror inside the dank kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Tonks was the first to lower her wand, recognizing the teenager. "Harry?"

"It worked!" Harry said in triumph and pulled his head back to look at the others. "A portal to Grimmauld Place has now been set up!" he told the others as he rushed up to the map, reaching into his pocket and taking out a quill and a bottle of in, putting an X on the map, followed by the combination. "Step on through."

–

Harry, Hermione and Dumbledore had, one week later, taken it upon themselves to look through the vast library in the west end of Avalon. And it was vast, almost rivaling the Hogwarts library in size. Bookcase upon bookcase filled the massive room, reaching high to the ceiling. Each of them were filled with books, books that almost had Hermione's mouth watering due to their rarity.

"Harry, how is your Occlumency coming along?" Dumbledore asked as he looked over a book labeled _The Theory of Modern Magic_, a book that no doubt held the theory of what was now considered ancient magic.

"It's coming along nicely," Harry said, looking through the bookcase across from the one Dumbledore was looking through. "I have felt Voldemort trying to enter my head, and I've found that I'm skilled enough not only to block him, but also to trick him into believing that he had succeeded."

"So he knows of the link, then," Harry heard Dumbledore mutter to himself. "Very good, Harry. Allow him to keep believing that your mind is defenseless."

Harry nodded and went back to scanning the spines of the book. Then, he spoke, "You don't think Sirius is mad at me for offering the Order to use this place as headquarters, do you, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh, not at all, my boy! In fact, I believe he is enjoying it quite thoroughly. After all, he can go outside here as much as he wants without worrying."

Harry nodded slowly. Then, he noticed a book, blinking. "Oh, Professor, do you think you can do me a favor?"

"Certainly, Harry," Dumbledore said as he turned to Harry, raising an eyebrow. "What can I do for you?"

Harry pulled the book out of the bookcase and held it out to Dumbledore. "_Advanced Healing Techniques_, by Myrddin Emrys," he said as Dumbledore took the book, looking it over. "Do you think you could give that to Madam Pomfrey the next time you go back to Hogwarts? I think she'd enjoy it."

"Of course I can," Dumbledore said. He was smiling, and the twinkle in his eyes had returned full force. "I think she will be delighted."

"Tell her it's a thank you for putting up with me and treating me these last four years."

"I will."

Later that day, Dumbledore left, and Order members went in and out of the portal. As instructed by Harry, they were only to stick to the marked paths, which included the massive kitchen under the castle, a dining room, though it was more like a dining hall, and a room fit for meetings, which could hold the large amount of Order members. Most of them respected Harry's wishes, but some of them, mostly Fred and George, sometimes let their curiosity take over, and strayed. Harry had given them both a quite thorough cursing on more than one occasion.

"I told you two to stick to the marked paths," Harry told the near unconscious twins when he for the fifteenth time had caught them straying. He had, as usual, attacked them, and was now floating them back to the portal room. The Weasley twins were hanging in the air as if hooked by the back of their pants. They had sprouted very Dumbledore-like beards, and had vulture beaks. "Now, stray again without my permission, and I will work you two like house-elves," he said as they reached the portal room. Harry stopped then, and blinked. "Speaking of which, Dobby!" Nothing happened... "Dobby?"

Harry hummed and waved his hand. The two Weasley twins flew through the air and into the portal, no doubt landing in a heap on the kitchen table as they always had.

He walked up to the portal and stuck his head through it, seeing that, indeed, they were on the table, moaning in pain. "Dobby!"

With a pop, the house-elf appeared on the floor in front of the portal, blinking his huge eyes.

"Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby exclaimed as he saw Harry. "Dobby be hearing your calling, but Dobby was unable to Apparate to your location!"

"I'm in Avalon, Dobby," Harry explained to the wide-eyed elf, smiling. "It's no doubt protected even better than Hogwarts. Come on, step on through."

Tentatively, Dobby walked up to and through the portal, while Harry pulled his head back. He found Dobby standing in the portal room, looking around in awe.

"Avalon... The paradise island of legends..." Dobby whispered, his eyes tearing up. "Dobby be hearing so much of the great Avalon... Dobby never thought he would live to see it!" Before Harry knew it, he had an overly emotional house-elf clinging to his leg, howling with joy as tears streamed down his face. "Thank you, Harry Potter, sir! Thank you!"

"So, what do you say, Dobby?" Harry asked, smiling down at the house-elf. "You want to take my offer and work here?"

Dobby immediately let go of Harry and stood before him. "Dobby would be deeply honored to be working for Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" Then, Dobby's ears drooped, and he looked at Harry almost... shyly? "Harry Potter, sir, can Dobby ask you something?"

"Go right ahead," Harry said with a nod.

"Could... Could Dobby bond with you, Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked. "Dobby likes being free, but Dobby would like to be Harry Potter's personal elf."

"W-Wow, Dobby..." Harry said, his eyes wide. "Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn't want to condemn you to a life of slavery..."

"Dobby doesn't mind, Harry Potter. Dobby would be honored."

Seeing that Dobby really wanted this, Harry nodded. "Alright, then. How do we do this?"

Dobby simply held out his hand. "Harry Potter needs to shake Dobby's hand, and Harry Potter needs to claim Dobby as his elf."

"Alright," Harry said as he reached out, grabbing Dobby's hand. "I, Harry James Potter, hereby claim Dobby as my house-elf."

Harry's hand, along with Dobby's, started glowing as Harry felt a warmth in his hand. Within seconds, however, the glow disappeared, and Dobby started crying again.

"Oh, Dobby is so happy to be Harry Potter, sir's, house-elf!" Then, his crying abruptly stopped, and he looked around. "Dobby can feel the outside again. Dobby thinks..."

With a pop, Dobby disappeared, reappearing again almost immediately.

"Dobby is recognized by the wards as the owner's house-elf," Dobby said happily. "Dobby can Apparate outside!"

–

"How's the castle?"

Harry sat in the library, in a very comfortable leather chair, reading the book on the theory of modern (now ancient) magic. In front of him stood Sirius, grinning.

"I love it. The outside is amazing. It's like I'm actually outside, and the sun feels real, even though we're underwater."

Harry nodded slowly. "I thought as much. After all, there's plant life and everything. It wouldn't survive without the sun. So, you're not mad, then, about me offering the Order this place as headquarters?"

"Of course not! I'm happy to get out of that house," Sirius said as he sat down as well. The leather chair he sat down in was exactly the same as the one Harry sat in, and between them was a small table with a single candle on it, along with a cup of tea, courtesy of Dobby. "By the way, this came for you."

Sirius reached into his pocket and took out an envelope, holding it out to Harry, who took it and opened it.

"Book list, then?" he asked as he read over the list. "Only two new ones. _The Standard Book of Spells_, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk and _Defensive Magical Theory_, by Wilbert Slinkhard."

"Slinkhard?" Sirius asked, scoffing. "That nobody?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a nod. "I have both those books already. Slinkhard's book is a bunch of leather-bound shite."

Sirius laughed his bark-like laugh at that. "Well, we're lucky you're already so proficient in Defense, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but this..." Harry gestured for the list, shaking his head. "I'm gonna need to bring all my books... Slinkhard is all theory. There are no defensive spells or anything in his book."

They lapsed into silence, broken only by Sirius tapping his foot against the marble floor.

"In other news," Sirius said after a few minutes, no doubt fed up with the silence, "Ron was made Prefect."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Well, good for him."

"What, that's it?" Sirius asked in obvious disappointment. "You don't think you should have gotten that?"

"Nope," Harry said, shaking his head. "I will be doing something much more important this year, and I will be too busy to even handle Quidditch, let alone patrolling the halls at night."

"Something important?" Sirius asked. "Like what?"

"You'll find out," Harry said calmly, going back to his book, ignoring the childish pout on Sirius' face. They lapsed into silence once more, and then, Harry spoke again, "Hey, Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"You... You don't really see me as my father, do you?" Harry asked, without looking at Sirius. He didn't want to see how he reacted to the question.

Sirius was quiet for a few moments. "There are times... times when I look at you and mistake you for James," he admitted slowly. "When I see you from behind or from the side. My mind just drifts to the past. Then, I see your eyes, and I'm brought back to reality."

Slowly, Harry nodded as he contemplated. "I guess... Azkaban affected you more than we'd believed?"

"I think so... But don't think I'm a nutter or anything. I know you are you and all, but I just see Prongs now and then."

Harry snorted. "I suppose it's better that you sometimes see my dad, rather than myself as an infant."

Sirius and Harry made a silent promise not to speak of that day again, instead just going on like they always had. They had a big dinner that night, to celebrate Hermione and Ron becoming Prefects, and Hermione had made sure to announce her displeasure to Harry. She, apparently, believed that Harry should have been made Prefect, seeing as he deserved it more.

In the dining hall of Avalon, Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the long dinner table, which read '_CONGRATULATIONS, RON AND HERMIONE, NEW PREFECTS._' She looked in a better mood than she'd been since Harry came from Privet Drive.

"I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner," she told Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny as they entered the room. "Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron, I've sent them both owls, and they're thrilled," she added, beaming.

Fred rolled his eyes and nudged Harry with his elbow.

"I thought for sure that you were gonna get the title," he admitted, and Harry shrugged.

"Not my style, Fred," Harry said, a grin appearing on his face. "I will probably be something of a rule-breaker this year, and I would only sully the good name of Gryffindor if I did it as a Prefect."

"Rule-breaker, eh?" George asked, leaning in. "Do tell, partner."

The twins had taken to calling Harry partner, ever since he gave them his half of the Triwizard winnings to fund their joke shop. They seemed to think that he was entitled to at least 30% of the profits.

"Can't tell you yet, George," Harry said, shaking his head. "You'll find out if I decide to go through with my plan. For now, let's just enjoy this little bash."

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley were already there, and Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had gotten himself a glass of wine. Mrs. Weasley had originally frowned upon Harry's drinking of wine, but she had reluctantly allowed him to drink it after he informed her that it contained no more alcohol than butterbeer.

"Harry!" Sirius called from one end of the table, where he, Lupin and Tonks sat. He gestured for Harry to come over, and so he did, sitting down next to Sirius.

"I have something for you, Harry," Lupin said as he held out a box, wrapped in light-brown paper. It was about the size of a wand box, only slightly wider. Harry took it with a raised eyebrow and carefully tore the wrappings off. As he opened the box, his eyes widened.

In the box was some type of gloves. However, they were strange gloves. They looked like archery gloves, only different. They were made of brown leather, and were long enough to cover his forearms. They only had three fingers, one for the thumb, one for the index finger, and one for the middle finger. Harry picked them up and looked them over, then gave Lupin a questioning look.

"They're dueling gloves," the werewolf informed him with a smile. "Usually, one only wears a single glove, but seeing as you don't use a wand at all, you could probably use both hands. They're not only designed for better wand grip, but they're are also made for optimized wrist movements."

Harry put on the gloves, finding them to be a surprisingly good fit. The right one also did a good job of covering up the scars riddling his right arm.

"Wow... Thank you, Moony."

Lupin just smiled. Just then, Mr. Weasley and Bill entered the dining room, bringing Mundungus Fletcher with them. He was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places, and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's traveling cloak.

"I don't think I want him here," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at Mundungus. He had many treasures in Avalon, gold, silver and literature, and he didn't want Mundungus anywhere near it. "Granted, this whole place is charmed stronger against thievery than Hogwarts, but I still feel uneasy."

"Don't worry, Harry," Sirius said, patting Harry on the back. "I'll make sure to keep an eye on him at all times."

"Well, I think a toast is in order," Mr. Weasley said suddenly, once he noticed that everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. "To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!"

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone, even Harry, drank to them and then applauded.

"I was never a prefect myself," Tonks said brightly. Her hair was red and waist-length today, looking like a proper Weasley. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as he started filling his plate with food. He was starving.

"Like the ability to behave myself," Tonks said with a shrug, causing Harry to laugh while Hermione, who sat next to him, looked like she didn't know whether to smile or not. She compromised by taking an extra large gulp of butterbeer and choking on it.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny, sitting on Hermione's other side, asked, thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius let out his usual bark-like laugh.

"No one would have made me a prefect. I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," Lupin said. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

Harry snorted. That was the understatement of the year. The others seemed to realize what he was thinking, and burst out laughing. Sirius tried to put on a look of mock indignation, but that only caused everyone to laugh harder, and he and Lupin joined in the laughter soon after.

The dinner progressed, and Harry heard plenty of interesting conversations, like Hermione discussing house-elf rights with Lupin, or Mrs. Weasley and Bill having their usual argument about Bill's hair.

"...getting really out of hand, and you're so good-looking, it would look much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harry?"

Harry blinked at being asked his opinion. Then, he shrugged. "Well, my hair would look much better if combed, but just because it would, that doesn't mean it's going to happen," he said diplomatically, getting a smile from Bill, and a critical look from Mrs. Weasley, who now set her sights on Harry's hair. So that was why Bill smiled, because Harry grabbed Mrs. Weasley's attention. Harry cleared his throat. "You know, I gotta... er..."

Slowly, Harry slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.

Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harry, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer.

"It's okay," he told Mundungus, "we can trust Harry, as he's our financial backer."

"Look what Dung's gotten us," George said, holding his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shriveled, black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.

"Venomous Tentacula seeds," George said. "We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes, but they're a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance, so we've been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them."

"Ten Galleons the lot, then, Dung?" Fred asked.

"Wiv all the trouble I went through to get 'em?" Mundungus asked, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching wider. "I'm sorry, lads, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty."

"Dung likes his little jokes," Fred told Harry.

"Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of knarl quills," George nodded.

"Be careful, though," Harry warned quietly. "Moody could have his eyes... well, eye... on you."

Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder.

"Good point, that," he grunted. "All right, lads, ten it is, if you'll take 'em quick."

"Cheers, Harry!" Fred said delightedly, after Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off toward the food. "We'd better get these back to our room..."

Harry watched them move away, but quickly put a hand on their shoulders, stopping them.

"Remember what'll happen if you stray, guys."

With that, Harry moved over to the table, and caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley's deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.

"...why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?"

"He'll have his reasons," Lupin answered.

"But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done," Kingsley persisted, "'specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days..."

Harry moved away to go sit with Moody, who was currently sniffing a chicken leg. Evidently, he couldn't detect any poison, as he then tore a strip off it with his teeth.

"You alright, Potter?" Moody grunted after swallowing his food, both his eyes fixed on Harry.

"I'm fine," Harry said, nodding.

Moody took a swig from his hip flask.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," he said.

From an inner pocket of his robes, Moody pulled a very tattered photograph.

"Original Order of the Phoenix," Moody growled. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one... Thought people might like to see it."

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.

"There's me," Moody said unnecessarily, pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakable, though his hair was slightly less gray, and his nose was intact. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom..."

Harry stared down at Alice Longbottom. He knew her round, friendly face very well, even though he had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville.

"Poor devils," Moody growled. "Better dead than what happened to them... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... shift aside there," he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

"That's Edgar Bones... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young... Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes... budge along, budge along..."

The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves, and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture.

"That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke... That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you!"

Harry's heart turned over. His mother and father were beaming up at him, sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man Harry recognized at once as Wormtail. He was the one who had betrayed their whereabouts to Voldemort and so helped bring about their deaths...

"Eh?" Moody said.

Harry looked up into Moody's heavily scarred and pitted face. He nodded slowly, then looked down at the photograph, poking Wormtail.

"Move back," he ordered. "Go sit in the corner."

Flinching, the little Wormtail got up, pushing his way through the crowd, no doubt to get away from Harry's finger, which must have been giant to him.

"New war... New Order?" Harry asked, smiling down at his parents, who waved at him.

"Aye," Moody growled, nodding. "Dumbledore has a lot of faith in you, Potter. I have no doubt that he'll extend an invitation soon."

Harry just hummed, still staring at his parents.

–

Soon enough, September the first arrived, and Harry woke up in his bedroom in Avalon, stretching with a yawn. It was four in the morning. Harry had learned to wake up at this time. With his ability to clear his mind, he could get more rest in over shorter times. At the moment, he only needed five hours of sleep.

Harry picked out his choice of clothes for the day, and then packed the rest of his stuff with a wave of his hand. He was becoming better and better at wandless magic, he'd noticed. He hardly even used his staff anymore, except for when practicing the spells he'd invented. Speaking of the staff...

He grabbed his staff, and watched as it turned into his walking stick. He then proceeded to go through his morning exercises. He spent near three hours working out and practicing his magic as he did every morning.

Once he was done, he went back to his room and waved his hand at his trunk, 'causing it to rise into the air as he left again. As he passed one of the windows in the second floor hallway on his way to the portal room, he waved his hand, opening it just as Hedwig flew in and perched herself on his shoulder.

"Had a good night, girl?" he asked the owl, who hooted. "I'll let you fly to Hogwarts, if you want, or would you rather want the cage?" Hedwig hooted twice, meaning that she chose the second option, Harry nodded and snapped his fingers. The trunk flew open, and out floated Hedwig's cage, which opened itself. Hedwig flew inside as the trunk closed, and the cage floated down to perch itself on top of it.

When Harry went through the portal, he immediately heard Mrs. Black's enraged howls and screeches. He saw that Hedwig was getting upset with the noise, so he headed upstairs, where everyone were busy trying to get ready to leave. He narrowed his eyes at the paintings that were roaring and screaming, then waved his hand. To everyone's surprise, everything went silent. It was obvious from their movements that the paintings were still screaming, but they didn't hear anything.

"Oh, thank you, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said gratefully as Harry walked up to her. "Alright, you're to come with me and Tonks. Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage."

Harry nodded. "Alright," he said as he set the trunk and cage down. Then, he brought his fingers to his lips and let loose a sharp whistle. "Here, Paddy! Here, boy!"

A bark was heard, and soon, the scruffy, bear-like dog came down the stairs, wagging his tail happily.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!" Mrs. Weasley said in exasperation as Sirius sat down next to Harry, who conjured a collar and leash.

"He's not Sirius," Harry said with a smile. "This is Padfoot, my faithful dog."

"Oh, honestly..." Mrs. Weasley said despairingly, "well, on your own head be it!"

She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry and Padfoot followed her. The door slammed behind them.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked, looking around as they went down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment they reached the pavement.

"She's waiting for us just up here," Mrs. Weasley said stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside Harry, who sometimes struggled against the leash, while Harry held on for dear life.

An old woman greeted them on the corner. She had tightly curled, gray hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a pork-pie.

"Wotcher, Harry," she said, winking. "Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?" she added, checking her watch.

"I know, I know," Mrs. Weasley moaned, lengthening her stride, "but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again... but Fudge wouldn't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... How Muggles can stand traveling without magic..."

But Sirius gave a joyful bark and Harry, feeling bad, nodded and took off the leash, letting him gambol around them, snapping at pigeons and chasing his own tail. Harry laughed as he picked up an old branch from underneath a tree as they went through a park, and started throwing it. Sirius chased after it happily, while Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in a very Aunt Petunia-ish way.

Nothing really eventful happened in the twenty minutes it took them to reach King's Cross by foot, except for Sirius scaring a couple of cats for Harry's entertainment. Once inside the station, they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through onto platform nine and three quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families. Harry inhaled the familiar smell and smiled brightly. He always felt great when he smelled the Hogwarts Express, which would take him back home.

"I hope the others make it in time," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, staring behind her at the wrought-iron arch spanning the platform, through which new arrivals would come.

"Nice dog, Harry!" a tall boy with dreadlocks called.

"Thanks, Lee!" Harry called back, grinning, as Sirius wagged his tail frantically.

"Oh, good," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding relieved, "here's Alastor with the luggage, look..."

A porter's cap pulled low over his mismatched eyes, Moody came limping through the archway, pushing a cart full of their trunks.

"All okay," he muttered to Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. "Don't think we were followed..."

Seconds later, Mr. Weasley emerged onto the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage cart when Fred, George and Ginny turned up with Lupin.

"No trouble?" Moody growled.

"Nothing," Lupin said.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," Moody said. "That's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus."

"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin said, shaking hands all around. He reached Harry last and gave him a clap on the shoulder. "You too, Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," Moody said, shaking Harry's hand too. "And don't forget, all of you, careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"Don't worry, if I believe someone might read my letters, I'll send them with Dobby. No offense, Hedwig," he told his owl, who hooted indignantly and turned her back on him. "I hate it when she does that..."

"It's been great meeting all of you," Tonks said, hugging Hermione and Ginny. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

A warning whistle sounded, and the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train.

"Here," Harry said, handing the leash over to Tonks. "Make sure he doesn't run off."

"Will do," Tonks said with a wink, while Sirius barked.

"Quick, quick," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, hugging them at random and catching Harry twice. "Write... Be good... If you've forgotten anything, we'll send it on... Onto the train, now, hurry..."

"See you!" Harry called as he got on the train, sticking his head out of one of the open windows. "Make sure to keep Paddy properly fed and watered, or he'll be cranky!"

The figures of Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shrank rapidly, but Sirius was bounding alongside the window, wagging his tail. Blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, and then they turned the corner, and Sirius was gone.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione said in a worried voice.

"Oh, lighten up," Ron said, "he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke."

"Not real daylight, anyway," Harry said with a shrug.

"Well," Fred said, clapping his hands together, "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later," and he and George disappeared down the corridor to the right.

The train was gathering still more speed, so that the houses outside flashed past, and they swayed where they stood.

"Well, I'll go find a compartment, while you go to the prefect carriage," Harry told Hermione, leaning on his walking stick as his knee started aching.

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," Hermione said. "I'll come find you after we've gotten instructions from the Head Boy and Girl, okay?"

Harry nodded and limped off, his trunk and Hedwig's cage floating behind him.

"Oh, so you were just gonna leave me behind, were you?" came Ginny's voice from behind him as she walked up to him, dragging her trunk behind her. Harry snapped his fingers, causing it to float into the air.

"Well, seeing as we never really made any promise to stick together, I technically didn't leave you behind," Harry reasoned, shrugging, "I was just walking ahead."

"Git," Ginny muttered, while Harry chuckled. Harry was happy to see that Ginny seemed to have gotten over her crush, and could talk to him normally. "Come on, if we hurry, we might be able to save them some seats."

"Right," Harry said as they struggled off down the corridor, peering through the glass-paneled doors into the compartments they passed, which were already full. Harry couldn't help noticing that a lot of people stared back at him with great interest and that several of them nudged their neighbors and pointed him out. He idly wondered how many of these people actually believed the Daily Prophet. No doubt, most of them.

In the very last carriage, they met a fellow Gryffindor, Neville, his round face shining with the effort of pulling his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor.

"Hi, Harry," he panted. "Hi, Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him, asked. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here."

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Don't be silly," Ginny said, laughing, "she's alright."

She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside it, and Harry and Neville followed.

"Hi, Luna," Ginny said. "Is it okay if we take these seats?"

The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Harry knew at once why Neville had chosen to pass this compartment by. The girl off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps. Normally, he would have thought that she was weird for reading a magazine upside down, but he then realized what magazine she was reading. It was the Quibbler, the issue from three weeks ago, which had runes in them which, if read upside-down, would supposedly reveal a spell that could make your enemy's ears turn into kumquats.

The girl's eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," Ginny said, smiling at her.

Harry and Neville stowed the three trunks and Hedwig's cage in the luggage rack and sat down. The girl called Luna watched them over her upside-down magazine. She didn't seem to need to blink as much as normal humans. She stared and stared at Harry, who had taken a seat opposite her.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Luna said dreamily without taking her eyes off Harry. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. _You're_ Harry Potter," she added.

"Really?" Harry asked looking himself over. "I didn't know that."

Neville chuckled, and Luna turned her pale eyes upon him instead.

"And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," Neville said hurriedly.

"Don't be stupid," Harry said, slinging an arm over Neville shoulders. "This is Neville Longbottom."

"Guys, this is Luna Lovegood," Ginny introduced. "Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," Luna said in a singsong voice.

She raised her upside-down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Harry and Neville looked at each other, both with their eyebrows raised, and Ginny suppressed a giggle.

The train rattled onward, speeding them out into open country. It was an odd, unsettled sort of day. One moment the carriage was full of sunlight and the next they were passing beneath ominously gray clouds.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville said.

"Another Remembrall?" Harry guessed, remembering the marble-like device Neville's grandmother had sent him in an effort to improve his abysmal memory.

"No," Neville said, "I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago... No, look at this..."

He dug the hand that was not keeping a firm grip on Trevor into his schoolbag and after a little bit of rummaging pulled out what appeared to be a small gray cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," he said proudly.

Harry stared at the thing. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ.

"It's really, really rare," Neville said, beaming. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

"Those are supposed to be almost extinct, aren't they?" Harry asked, remembering reading about that plant in Avalon's library. "Even in the sixth century, they were rare."

"Yeah, I know," Neville said in excitement. "It's got an amazing defensive mechanism, hold Trevor for me. . . ."

He dumped the toad into Harry's lap and took a quill from his schoolbag. Luna Lovegood's popping eyes appeared over the top of her upside-down magazine again, watching what Neville was doing.

Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot, and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, darkgreen jets of it. They hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna's magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy, green hat, but Harry, whose hands had been busy preventing the escape of Trevor, received a face full. It smelled like rancid manure.

Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

"S-Sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before... Didn't realize it would be quite so... Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor.

At that precise moment, the door of their compartment slid open.

"Oh... hi, Harry," an amused voice said. "Did I come at a bad time?"

Harry wiped the lenses of his glasses with his Trevor-free hand. Cedric Diggory stood in the doorway with his girlfriend, Cho Chang.

"Not at all," Harry said in a nonchalant tone as he spat some more Stinksap. "Neville was just demonstrating the peculiar defense mechanism of a very rare plant," he said as he waved his walking stick in a small circle. "Scourgify."

The Stinksap vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Had a good summer, Harry?" Cedric asked, getting a nod from Harry. "The Prophet's been saying some things about you, you know."

"Rubbish, the whole lot of it," Harry said with a shrug. "Haven't seen your name so much, though."

"Probably because my name isn't as big as yours," Cedric said with a grin. "No one cares if a simple Hufflepuff prefect proclaims the return of You-Know-Who."

"True, I suppose," Harry reasoned with a nod.

"Anyway, Harry, I'll see you later," Cedric said with a wave. Harry nodded, as Cedric closed the door and departed with Cho.

"Sorry," Neville said in a small voice.

"Don't worry," Harry said, patting Neville on the shoulder. "At least you now know not to do that in public, right?"

Ron and Hermione didn't show up for nearly an hour, by which time the food trolley had already gone by. Harry, Ginny and Neville had finished their Pumpkin Pasties and were busy swapping Chocolate Frog cards when the compartment door slid open and they walked in, accompanied by Crookshanks and a shrilly hooting Pigwidgeon in his cage.

"I'm starving," Ron said, stowing Pigwidgeon next to Hedwig, grabbing a Chocolate Frog from Ginny and throwing himself into the seat next to her.

Hermione came over and sat down between Neville and Harry, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

"There are two fifth-year prefects from each House," she explained, seeing that Harry was about to ask. "Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" Ron said, his eyes closed.

"Malfoy," Harry replied immediately, clicking his tongue. Of course, he thought, it was only natural for rich boy snake Malfoy to become prefect...

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," Hermione said viciously. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..."

"That was pretty rude, Hermione," Harry said, seeing everyone look at him strangely, "to the concussed troll, I mean."

At that, everyone burst into laughter.

"Anyway, who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked once the laughter had died down.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," Ron answered. He and Harry had somewhat mended their friendship over the summer, but they were nowhere near as close as they used to be.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," Hermione said.

"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil," a vague voice said.

Everyone turned to look at Luna, who was gazing unblinkingly at Ron over the top of The Quibbler. He swallowed a mouthful of Frog.

"Yeah, I know I did," he said, looking mildly surprised.

"She didn't enjoy it very much," Luna informed him. "She doesn't think you treated her very well, because you wouldn't dance with her. I don't think I'd have minded," she added thoughtfully, "I don't like dancing very much."

She retreated behind The Quibbler again. Ron stared at the cover with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds, then looked around at Ginny for some kind of explanation, but Ginny had stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to stop herself giggling. Ron shook his head, bemused, then checked his watch.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," he told Harry and Neville, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something..."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" Hermione said sharply.

Harry tuned out the rest of the trip, closing his eyes and meditating. It had become a habit for him to work on his Occlumency when he was bored, building up layer after layer and strengthening them.

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**Another chapter out!**

**Enjoy!**

–

"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" Ginny asked. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna had all squeezed into the same horse-less carriage, and were now heading up to the school. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"

"I'll be quite glad if he had," Luna said. "He isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

"Yes, he is!" Harry, Ron, Ginny, and even Neville said angrily.

Harry glared at Hermione, who cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm... yes... he's very good."

"Well, we think he's a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw," Luna said, unfazed.

"Then you people should work on your sense of humor," Harry hissed venomously. He wouldn't approve of anyone insulting his friend like that, and if Luna said anything else, he was sure he would start cursing.

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Harry leaned forward to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet-black against the dark sky, here and there, a window blazing fiery bright above them.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrid's cabin.

The entrance hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the enchanted ceiling, which was now a starless black. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall, and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eying one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed. He gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table, and Harry was happy to see her go. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth years and left to sit with them. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before. He had more important things to worry about, however. He was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

"He's not there," Harry noted with a hum. "I suppose he's still on his mission," he said quietly, making sure Neville, Parvati and Lavender couldn't hear him.

"Who's that?" Hermione asked sharply suddenly as she pointed toward the middle of the staff table.

Harry's eyes followed hers. They first landed on Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then, she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet, and Harry saw a pallid, toad-like face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"I don't know," Harry said, "but I'm sure it's the same person who assigned us Slinkhard's book. Working for Fudge, no doubt."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked, to which Harry gave a slight smirk.

"She looks like a Ministry worker."

"How can you tell?" Ginny asked, blinking.

"The eyes."

Before they could ask anything else, the doors from the entrance hall opened, and a long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat the patched and darned Sorting Hat.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling.

Harry could sympathize, remembering just how terrified he had felt when he stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine which House he belonged to.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then, the rip near the Hat's brim opened wide, and it burst into song:

_In times of old when I was new_

_And Hogwarts barely started_

_The founders of our noble school_

_Thought never to be parted:_

_United by a common goal,_

_They had the selfsame yearning,_

_To make the world's best magic school_

_And pass along their learning._

"_Together we will build and teach!"_

_The four good friends decided_

_And never did they dream that they_

_Might someday be divided,_

_For were there such friends anywhere_

_As Slytherin and Gryffndor?_

_Unless it was the second pair_

_Of Huffepuff and Ravenclaw?_

_So how could it have gone so wrong?_

_How could such friendships fail?_

_Why, I was there and so can tell_

_The whole sad, sorry tale._

_Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those_

_Whose ancestry is purest."_

_Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose_

_Intelligence is surest."_

_Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those_

_With brave deeds to their name,"_

_Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,_

_And treat them just the same."_

_These differences caused little strife_

_When first they came to light,_

_For each of the four founders had_

_A House in which they might_

_Take only those they wanted, so,_

_For instance, Slytherin_

_Took only pure-blood wizards_

_Of great cunning, just like him,_

_And only those of sharpest mind_

_Were taught by Ravenclaw_

_While the bravest and the boldest_

_Went to daring Gryffindor._

_Good Hufflepuff she took the rest,_

_And taught them all she knew,_

_Thus the Houses and their founders_

_Retained friendships firm and true._

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_

_For several happy years,_

_But then discord crept among us_

_Feeding on our faults and fears._

_The Houses that, like pillars four,_

_Had once held up our school,_

_Now turned upon each other and,_

_Divided, sought to rule._

_And for a while it seemed the school_

_Must meet an early end,_

_What with dueling and with fighting_

_And the clash of friend on friend_

_And at last there came a morning_

_When old Slytherin departed_

_And though the fighting then died out_

_He left us quite downhearted._

_And never since the founders four_

_Were whittled down to three_

_Have the Houses been united_

_As they once were meant to be._

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_

_And you all know the score:_

_I sort you into Houses_

_Because that is what I'm for,_

_But this year I'll go further,_

_Listen closely to my song:_

_Though condemned I am to split you_

_Still I worry that it's wrong,_

_Though I must fulfill my duty_

_And must quarter every year_

_Still I wonder whether sorting_

_May not bring the end I fear._

_Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_The warning history shows,_

_For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_From external, deadly foes_

_And we must unite inside her_

_Or we'll crumble from within._

_I have told you, I have warned you..._

_Let the Sorting now begin._

The Hat became motionless once more, and applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall, students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Even the Hat acknowledges his return," he muttered to Hermione, "which really says a lot about our Ministry, doesn't it?"

Hermione snorted and looked like she was suppressing laughter at that statement, and Harry grinned at her.

"Harry, that's horrible," she whispered as the applause stopped, and McGonagall began reading out the list of first years' names.

After the Sorting was done, followed by a fabulous feast, Dumbledore stood up once all the golden plates were clear of food.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," Dumbledore said. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students, and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." (Dumbledore's twinkling eyes passed over Harry, Hermione and Ron. Harry managed to look perfectly innocent.)

"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite, but fairly unenthusiastic applause. Harry just wondered how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching. It was rude of Dumbledore not to say.

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the-"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Umbridge said, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

"You fucking toad..." Harry hissed under his breath, making sure that Hermione didn't hear him curse, as it would just upset her. No one interrupted Dumbledore!

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Umbridge, as if he desired nothing more than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff weren't as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. Many of the students were smirking at how the new teacher had interrupted Dumbledore. She obviously didn't know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"A Galleon says Durmstrang education," Harry said to Neville, who nodded as they shook hands.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he couldn't explain. All he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough and continued: "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth as Harry handed a Galleon over to Neville, who pocketed it. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Harry glanced around. No one looked happy. In fact, they all looked taken aback at being addressed as if they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged look at this. Some of them were barely concealing grins.

Umbridge cleared her throat again, but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull, learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic ("See? I told you," Harry muttered to Hermione.) has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations, lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawk-like, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "Hem, hem" and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

Harry found that he couldn't listen to anymore of that rubbish. Anyone with a brain could tell what she was really saying. The Ministry was going to stick its nose into Hogwarts's business. Sirius was right, then...

–

_Sirius had told Harry over the summer that Fudge believed that Dumbledore was building an army to overthrow the Ministry, and that was why Fudge didn't want the students of Hogwarts trained for war. That was why Sirius had told Harry to take as many spell books and books on defense and offense as possible with him to Hogwarts, so he could at least study properly._

_Now, that Umbridge woman was a real piece of work. She didn't, as predicted, teach anything practical in her classes. She taught nothing but rubbish. Just theory that wouldn't help one bit in real life, or during the OWLs for that matter._

_Anyway, time passed, and everything went as normal, except for the horrible lessons with Umbridge, where Harry got himself a detention._

_The detention was truly cruel. Harry was forced to write lines. No, not just any lines. He had to use a Blood Quill, an old torture device, which has been banned by the Ministry. It doesn't need ink. It uses the writer's blood, and carves the words it writes into the back of the writer's hand._

_For Harry, it was, 'I must not tell lies.'_

–

"Well, it's all bollocks, isn't it?" Harry said with a snort as he gestured for the book Hermione was reading. "Ambers wrote nothing but rumors. She hadn't a clue about true ancient magic. Everything she wrote, she'd heard from almost-reliable sources. You shouldn't take her word for it."

"But, Harry-"

"Hermione, you're talking to the man who has the biggest library of the ninth century at his disposal," Harry said with a grin. "Accio book on modern magic."

Down the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, Merlin's book on modern, now ancient, magic came soaring, and Harry snatched it out of the air, before holding it out to Hermione. They were alone in the common room, as everyone had gone to bed early that evening.

"Try reading this. I think you'll find Merlin to be a better source of information than Ambers."

"Oh, thank you, Harry!" Hermione said joyfully as she took the book. She had been pestering him to allow her to read his books ever since they arrived at Hogwarts. "Harry? What are you doing down there?"

Harry had slipped out of his chair, and was now kneeling in front of the open fire, staring into it.

"I just saw Sirius's head in the fire," Harry said quite calmly. After all, he had seen Sirius's head appear in the fire before. He couldn't be sure if he'd really seen it this time, though, as it had vanished almost immediately.

"Sirius's head?" Hermione repeated. "You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now, it would be too- Sirius!"

She gasped, gazing at the fire. There, in the middle of the dancing flames sat Sirius's head, long dark hair falling around his grinning face.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry asked, suppressing a laugh, though he had an amused grin on his face.

"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear yet."

"But what if you'd been seen?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Well, I think a girl, first year by the look of her, might've got a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry," Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. "I was gone the moment she looked back at me, and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly shaped log or something."

"But Sirius, this is taking an awful risk-" Hermione began.

"You sound like Molly," Sirius interrupted. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code, and codes are breakable."

At the mention of Harry's letter, Hermione turned to stare at him.

"You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!" she said accusingly.

"You know, Sirius is right," Harry said thoughtfully. "You do sound like Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione harrumphed and crossed her arms.

"And don't give me that look. There was no way anyone could have got information from it, right, Sirius?"

"No, it was very good," Sirius said, smiling. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed. You'd like to know about Hagrid, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, he's been gone too long," Harry said, nodding.

"Well, he was supposed to be back by now. No one knows what's happened to him." Then, seeing their stricken faces, Sirius quickly added, "But Dumbledore's no worried, so don't you two get yourselves in a state. I'm sure Hagrid's fine."

"But if he was supposed to be back by now..." Hermione said in a small, worried voice.

"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home, but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or... well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly okay."

Harry and Hermione exchanged worried looks, unconvinced.

"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," Sirius said hastily, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay." When they didn't appear cheered by this, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could-"

"NO!" Harry and Hermione said together very loudly.

"Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Oh, that," Sirius said, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue-"

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," Harry said. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius, you know, Lucius Malfoy? So don't go running through Hogsmeade, whatever you do, if Malfoy recognizes us again-"

"Alright, alright, I've got the point," Sirius said, looking most displeased. "Just an idea, though you might like to get together-"

"I would. I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban," Harry said, and hummed. "However, I think I have an idea... Our first Hogsmeade visit is on October the fifth, but we could meet up on the fourth, as I have an idea I'd like to go over with you. Get to Avalon on the fourth, and I'll get Dobby to bring you to the Shrieking Shack."

Sirius grinned. "You're less like your father that I thought," he said teasingly. "You actually plan your risky adventures."

"Occasionally," Harry said, grinning back.

"I'll see you then, Harry," Sirius said, winking. Then, with a pop, he disappeared.

–

The fourth arrived quickly, and soon, Harry found himself sitting in the Shrieking Shack, on the same bed Ron had sat two years ago, without Hermione. With a pop, Dobby appeared, holding Sirius's hand.

"Dobby has brought Harry Potter's dogfather," Dobby said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said with a grin, before Dobby popped away.

"Useful elf, isn't he?" Sirius asked as he walked up to Harry, and the two hugged. "So, why such a late meeting, anyway?"

"Well, I thought you might want to go for a walk without your disguise, and with the cover of darkness, we can do so," Harry explained.

Sirius seemed to think this was a brilliant idea, and soon, they had made a hole in the wall of the Shack, and were walking around the grassy lands surrounding it.

"So, what was this idea you wanted to talk to me about?"

Harry realized that there was no point in skirting around the issue, so he smiled and said, "I'm going to make my own Order."

Sirius blinked. "Come again?"

"I'm going to make my own Order, a group with the focus of teaching its members how to defend themselves, and generally make life miserable for Umbridge and the Junior Death Eaters. What I need advice on is where to meet them, and where to hold our meetings."

"How many prospective members have you got?" Sirius asked, looking thrilled at the thought of the level of rule-breaking Harry was going to engage in. Harry shrugged.

"So far, I know for certain I'll have Hermione, Ron and Ginny. They have agreed to go out and scout members for me. That's why I couldn't meet you tomorrow, because I'll be meeting them tomorrow, but we don't have a place."

"Well, for the first meeting, I suggest Three Broomsticks," Sirius said, and raised a hand when he saw Harry about to object. "I know, it's crowded, but crowds are good. It's not easy to hear a conversation when there's a whole flock of people talking at once."

Harry realized that there was a lot of truth to that, and made sure to memorize it for future use. Then, he smiled. What he was going to do was going to make Sirius's day.

"You want to sit in on the meeting tomorrow?" he asked, seeing his godfather blink and turn to him in confusion.

"I thought you didn't trust that the dog transformation would work?"

"I don't," Harry said, shaking his head as he reached into an inner pocket of his robes, pulling out a bundle of silvery cloth, holding it out to Sirius, "but my dad left me something much better."

"The cloak!" Sirius said, a bright grin lighting up his face. "Alright, when are you meeting?"

"After lunch."

"The booth furthest back, you know the one with no windows nearby?" Sirius asked, and Harry nodded, knowing what booth he was talking about. "Make sure to pick that booth. I'll be waiting in the corner. And buy me a pint of Rosmerta's mead."

"Will do, Sirius," Harry said with a grin, then checked his watch. "Damn, I have to get back to the castle. But hey, do you know some place for us to hold our meetings?"

"Why don't you ask the house-elves?" Sirius asked with a shrug. "They know pretty much every nook and cranny of old Hogwarts. And Dobby works there, doesn't he?"

"You know what, you can be smart sometimes," Harry said, smirking.

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh. "I'm always smart."

"Dobby!"

With a pop, the excited house-elf appeared in front of them.

"Harry Potter be wishing for Dobby to take his dogfather back?"

"Yes, Dobby, but first, I'd like to know if you know of a place where a large group of people can practice Defense Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the teachers, especially Umbridge."

Dobby gave a little skip, his ears waggling happily, as he clapped his hands together.

"Dobby knows the perfect place, sir!" he said happily. "Dobby heard tell of it from the other house-elves when he came to Hogwarts, sir. It is known by us as the Come and Go Room, sir, or else as the Room of Requirement!"

"Why?" Harry asked curiously, while Sirius blinked. Obviously, the Marauders hadn't found that room exploring the castle.

"Because it is a room that a person can only enter," Dobby said seriously, "when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dobby has used it, sir," the elf said, dropping his voice and looking guilty, "when Winky has been very drunk. He has hidden her in the Room of Requirement and he has found antidotes to butterbeer there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle her on while she sleeps it off, sir... And Dobby knows Mr. Filch has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, sir."

"How many people know about it?" Harry asked, a smile growing on his face.

"Very few, sir. Mostly, people stumbles across it when they needs it, sir, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, sir."

"It sounds brilliant," Harry said with a smile. "After you take Sirius back, can you show me?"

"Of course, sir!"

–

"You shouldn't be here, Sirius," Hermione whispered as she and Harry sat on either side of Sirius in the booth in the corner of the Three Broomsticks. "It's too dangerous!"

"What's life without a little risk?" Harry asked with a smile. "And besides, it's better that he has the invisibility cloak, rather than using his dog form. Relax, Hermione, and just focus on the task at hand."

Hermione harrumphed, looking affronted, and turned away from them.

Now, all they needed to do was wait.

Arriving first were Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho, Cedric, and one of Cho's usually giggling girlfriends, then Luna. Then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillain, Justing Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back, whose name Harry took a moment to remember as Susan Bones. Three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny and Ron, followed by a tall, skinny, blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry vaguely recognized as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George, along with Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

"This was more than anticipated," Harry said with a satisfied smile. Everyone went to the bar and purchased their drinks, then came to the booth, pulling up chairs and sitting down.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said, beaming and taking a seat opposite Harry.

"Glad to see you, Neville," Harry said with a grin. Then, he looked over everyone else. "Welcome, everyone. I bet you're all wondering why you're here? Well, I had the idea that it would be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I mean really study, not just read Slinkhard's rubbish, could get together. Slinkhard's book is good in theory, but useless in practice."

"Hear, hear," Anthony Goldstein said.

"Well, I thought it would be good if we took matters into our own hands. And by that, I mean learning to defend ourselves properly, not just theory, but real spells. Umbridge claims that we have no reason learn to defend ourselves, because that's what Aurors are for. However, fact remains that the Auror's can't be everywhere at once. This isn't just about the return of Voldemort."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped butterbeer down herself. Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered, and Nevile gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry, some glancing at Cedric, too. From next to him, Harry felt Sirius shaking slightly. He was obviously suppressing laughter at their reactions.

"That's the plan, learning defense. If you want to join, I-"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" the blond Hufflepuff player asked in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it-" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," the blond boy said, nodding at Harry.

"And you are?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Zacharias Smith," the boy said, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes you say You-Know-Who's back."

Only just now did it dawn upon Harry why there were so many people there. Some of these people, maybe even most of them, had turned up in the hope of hearing Harry's story firsthand.

"What makes me say Voldemort's back?" he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the eyes. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I didn't come here trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke.

Zacharias dismissively said, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that you and Diggory here met him, and that you brought Diggory back with you. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly what happened, and Diggory won't say a word. I think we'd all like to know-"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort taunts and tortures you, then I can't help you," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at Zacharias. "We dueled, he tortured me, then our wands exploded in our faces, giving me the opportunity to escape. I don't want to talk about that night, alright? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

"Agreed," Cedric said, nodding. "That's not exactly something I like to think about."

None of them left their seats, not even Zacharias, though he continued gazing intently at Harry.

"Like I was saying," Harry continued, placing one of his feet over Sirius's, sensing that he was about to lash out at Zacharias, "if you'd like to learn some defense from me, then I have a parchment here that I need you to-"

"Is it true," Susan Bones asked, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah."

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"How did you know that?" Harry asked, blinking.

"My auntie is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Susan said. "She heard from Arthur Weasley that you could produce one. So, is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes."

"Blimey, Harry!" Lee said, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot demanded. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."

"Yeah, I did," Harry said, hearing Justing whistle, while the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and Lavender Brown said "wow" softly. "Well, in all fairness, I would've died if it wasn't for Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. He's the one who tore out the Basilisk's eyes for me."

"And in our first year," Neville told the group at large, "he saved that Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."

Hannah Abbott's eye were as round as Galleons.

"Not to mention," Cedric said, "everything he went through in the Triwizard Tournament. Saved me more than once."

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table.

"But we're not here to talk about what I've done. The only thing that accomplishes is establishing that I'm fit to teach you. What we're here to talk about is _your_ ability," Harry said. "If you find yourselves staring at the dangerous end of a wand, you won't have time to wait for Aurors to show up and save the day. I will be teaching you to duel and to defend yourselves. If you're interested, then I want you to sign this," he said and reached into his robes, taking a piece of parchment and putting it on the table. "And then we'll decide on how often we'll meet. There's no point in meeting less than once a week-"

"Hang on," Angelina said, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice," she said, giving Harry a bit of a glare at the end. Obviously, she was still upset with Harry for quitting the team.

"No," Cho said, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," Cedric said.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," Harry said, waving them off. "But, you know, this is important. We're talking about defending against Voldemort."

"Well said!" Ernie barked. Harry had been expecting him to speak long before this. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with out OWLs coming up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to object. When no one spoke, he went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells-"

"The reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained is that Minister Fudge has somehow conceived the idea that Dumbledore is training his own private army to overthrow the Ministry. He thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry any day, should we be trained," Harry said, seeing nearly everyone look stunned at this news. Everyone except Luna.

"Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"Ah, about that, Luna," Harry said, clearing his throat. "I think your father got the facts slightly wrong. It was Minister Pudge in the year six hundred and seventy-one who had a heliopath army, not Fudge. Heliopaths have been extinct for the last seven hundred years."

Luna blinked owlishly at Harry. Then, she gave a small "oh" and seemed to drop the issue, looking to Harry as if urging him to go on.

"Anyway, how does tomorrow, Sunday, sound for everyone?" Harry asked, looking around. Seeing no one objecting, he nodded. "Then sign your names on this parchment, and I'll give you all our means of communication. When you sign it, you agree not to tell Umbridge, or anyone else who could possibly come to expose us, what we're up to."

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down his signature, but Harry noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

"Er..." Zacharias said slowly, not take the parchment that George was trying to pass him. "Well... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

But Ernie looked rather hesitant about signing, too.

"I, well, we a prefects," Ernie burst out at seeing Harry's raised eyebrow. "And if this list was found... Well, I mean to say..."

"Don't worry, Ernie," Harry said calmly. "I will make sure the list is safely hidden away. No one but me will be able to look at it."

"Yes... Yes, of course," Ernie said, looking slightly less anxious. "I, yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Harry saw Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her name. When the last person, Zacharias, had signed, Harry took the parchment back and slipped it into his pocket. Then, he reached into another pocket and took out a rather large wooden box, which was about thirty centimeters long and wide. He opened it, to show a large amount of silver rings in them.

"I had the goblins at Gringotts make these for me," he informed everyone, showing off his dragon ring. The rings in the box looked almost identical to the one Harry wore. The only difference was that the dragons on the other rings weren't roaring, unlike Harry's. "The directions to the meeting place will appear directly in your heads. The rings will vibrate when I have a message for you. From now on, this will be the way I will be informing you of the dates and times for the meetings. I had forty of them made, so there's enough for everyone."

–

At half-past seven that Sunday, Harry and Hermione left the Gryffindor common room, Harry clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in his hand. Fifth years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but the two of them kept looking around nervously as they made their way up to the seventh floor.

"Hold it," Harry said warningly, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand, and muttering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

A map of Hogwarts appeared upon the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labeled with names, showed where various people were.

"Filch is on the second floor," Harry said, holding the map close to his eyes and scanning it closely, "and Mrs. Norris is on the fourth."

"And Umbridge?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"In her office," Harry said. "Okay, let's go."

They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had showed to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for the ballet.

"Okay," Harry said quietly, while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch. "Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need."

They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-size vase on its other side. Ron had screwed up his eyes in concentration, Hermione was whispering something under her breath, Harry's fists were clenched as he stared ahead of him.

We need somewhere to learn to fight... he thought. Just give us a place to practice... somewhere they can't find us...

"Harry," Hermione said sharply, as they wheeled around after their third walk past.

A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door, and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below.

The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that Harry was sure had hung, the previous year, in the fake Moody's office.

"These will be good when we're practicing Stunning," Hermione said enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with her foot. "And just look at these books!" she said, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. "_A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_... _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_... _Self-Defensive Spellwork_... wow..." She looked around at Harry, her face glowing, and he saw that the presence of hundreds of books had finally convinced Hermione that what they were doing was right. "Harry, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!"

And without further ado she slid _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ from its shelf, sank onto the nearest cushion, and began to read.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Harry looked around, and saw that Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had arrived.

"Whoa," Dean said, looking around, impressed. "What is this place?"

Harry began to explain, but before he had finished more people had arrived, and he had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock. It clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at him.

Hermione carefully marked her page of _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ and set the book aside.

"Well," Harry said. "This is the place we've found for practices, and you've obviously found it okay-"

"It's fantastic!" Cho said, and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," Fred said, frowning around at it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then..."

"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" Dean asked from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

"Dark Detectors," Harry said, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled..."

He gazed for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none was recognizable. He turned his back on it.

"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and-" He noticed a raised hand. "What, Hermione?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader," Hermione said.

"Harry's leader," Cedric said at once, looking at Hermione as if she were mad. "That's obvious."

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione said, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So, everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"

Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly.

"Right, thanks," Harry said, nodding as he leaned against his walking stick. "And... what, Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"We already have a name," Harry said calmly. Seeing everyone's confused looks, he held up his hand, showing off his ring. "We will call ourselves the Dragon Order, symbolizing our strength, unity, courage, ferocity and spirit, all of which are traits the dragons inhabit, which is the reason why we haven't managed to drive them to extinction yet, nor do we want to."

"I bet that the fact that they look cool helped as well?" Dean asked with a grin, which was mimicked by Harry.

"Better that than the Order of the Skrewts."

Everyone shuddered, remembering Hagrid's pets from the year before.

"But I guess we should vote before Hermione blows a fuse," Harry said, seeing Hermione's hand in the air. "All in favor of the Dragon Order?"

Everyone raised a hand, except for Zacharias, who probably just didn't raise his hand in an act of rebellion.

Harry nodded and took out the parchment with everyone's names on it, and wrote THE DRAGON ORDER across the top in large letters. Then, he rolled it up again.

"Dobby!"

With a pop, the house-elf appeared, looking up at Harry.

"What can Dobby do for Harry Potter, sir?" he asked excitedly.

"Dobby, I want you to take this list, and lock it inside a box. Then, I want you to lock that box in a chest. Then take that chest you-know-where and hide it in the treasury. Hide it under as much junk as you can, then triple-lock the treasury," Harry said, handing the parchment over to Dobby, who nodded, before popping away again.

"Now that that's taken care of," Harry said once Dobby was gone, "shall we get practicing, then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do it go back to the basics. Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I've found it really useful over-"

"Oh please," Zacharias said, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," Harry said calmly. "It saved my life last June."

Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet.

"Listen, I wouldn't teach you anything I'd think was useless, and it's not just Voldemort you have to worry about. He has Death Eaters out there as well. But, of course, if you think it's beneath you, or if you feel like continuing questioning me, you can leave."

Smith didn't move. Nor did anyone else.

"Alright then. Everyone divide into pairs and practice. It's a simple spell. No wand movement is required. Just point," he raised his hand and pointed his finger at Smith, who had stood up with everyone else, his wand out, "and say 'Expelliarmus!'" There was a dazzling flash of red light as Smith was thrown off his feet, and his wand flew through the air, into Harry's waiting hand.

"Like I said, it's a very useful spell. He is now disarmed, and unable to use magic," Harry said with a grin as he threw the wand back to Smith, who caught it, standing up again. "So, get practicing."

Everyone divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partnerless.

"You can practice with me, mate," Harry told him. "Right, on the count of three, then. One, two... three!"

The room was suddenly full of shouts of "Expelliarmus!" Wands flew in all directions, missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. Neville was much too slow for Harry, and his wand went spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks, and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which Harry retrieved it with a Summoning Charm.

"Alright, maybe I'm not the best match for you," Harry said with an apologetic grin. "Try again. I won't move this time, just so that you can get it down properly," he said and raised his walking stick, pointing it at Neville. "Ready?"

"Expelliarmus!" Neville cried, and Harry watched as his walking stick was ripped out of his grip, soaring into Neville's waiting hand.

"I DID IT!" Neville said gleefully. "I've never done it before, and I DID IT!"

"Good one," Harry said as Neville gave the walking stick back. Now that Neville had done it once, Harry looked around, and knew it had been a good idea to start at the basics. There was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on. Many people weren't succeeding in disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backward a few paces or wince as the feeble spell whooshed over them.

"Alright, Neville, take it in turns to practice with Ron and Hermione for a couple of minutes, so that I can walk around and see how the rest are doing," Harry told Neville, then moved off into the middle of the room. Something very odd was happening to Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony wasn't doing anything.

"Fred, George, if you have time to play pranks, you have time to practice," Harry told the twins, who he saw were standing several feet away from Smith, and taking turns in pointing their wands at his back.

"Sorry, Harry," George said hastily when he saw the stern look in Harry's eyes. "Couldn't resist..."

Harry walked around the other pairs, trying to correct those who were doing the spell wrong. Ginny was teamed with Corner, and was doing very well, whereas Corner was either very bad, or unwilling to jinx her. Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get under his guard. The Creevey brothers were enthusiastic but erratic, and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them. Luna Lovegood was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Justin Finch-Fletchley's wand spinning out of his hand, at other times merely causing his hair to stand on end.

"Okay, stop!" Harry shouted, but realized that his voice wouldn't be heard over all the ruckus.

I need a whistle, he thought, and immediately spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. He picked it up and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands.

"That wasn't bad," Harry said, looking around, amused, "but there's definite room for improvement." Smith glared at him. "Let's try again."

He moved off around the room again, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved. Neville was getting quicker and quicker when it came to pronouncing the spell, and Harry grinned widely. This wasn't such a bad idea...

–

"You know, students aren't really allowed outside school, and even during the times they are, they are only allowed in Hogsmeade," Sirius said as he found Harry sitting in the library of Avalon, reading yet another book. Harry looked up at his godfather, grinning.

"Maybe so, but what's life without a little risk?" he asked, flipping a page in his book.

"What are you reading?" Sirius asked as he walked up to Harry, sitting down in the second chair, his usual one. Harry grinned again and showed Sirius the title. "_The Animal Within_? Are you trying to become an Animagus?"

"Thought it might be interesting to learn. I mean, you guys managed to learn it in your fifth year, right? So it shouldn't be too hard," Harry said, shrugging.

"I wish you luck, then," Sirius said with a nod.

"Thank you."

Harry kept reading in silence, barely noticing how Sirius was staring at him. After ten minutes, however, his eye twitched, and he turned to Sirius, eyebrow raised.

"Yes?" he said.

"You're bothered by something," Sirius said, scrutinizing Harry closely. "You get this crease in your forehead when you're bothered. I know, because Lily had the same crease."

"It's Hagrid," Harry said, sighing as he closed the book. "Umbridge's inspection didn't go so well."

"But that's not surprising, is it?" Sirius asked as he leaned back in his chair. "He's a half-giant, and the one creature Umbridge hates most of all, even more than werewolves, is giants. Even if Hagrid was a perfect teacher, it still wouldn't go well. So, what animal did he show you in the class she inspected?"

"A better question would be, what didn't he show us?" Harry said with a snicker. Seeing Sirius's confused expression, he explained, "Thestrals."

"Ah, those are pretty cool," Sirius said, grinning. "I tried to ride one, back in my sixth year."

"You could see thestrals by your sixth year?" Harry asked in shock, but Sirius shook his head.

"No, I couldn't, hence why I said tried. I grabbed something I apparently wasn't supposed to grab, and got a hoof to my chest, which sent me to the hospital wing with eight cracked ribs." Sirius got a nostalgic smile on his face as he looked up at the dark ceiling. "Ah, good times. I had to endure so much teasing from James and Remus for that."

Harry smiled softly. Then, he took a look at his watch, and his eyes widened.

"Aw, shite! I've got a Order meeting in five minutes," he said as he stood up, putting the book down in the chair instead. "I'll come back later, Sirius."

"Have a good meeting, Harry," Sirius said, waving as Harry left the library. As Harry passed through the door, he saw Sirius grab a book out of a bookshelf right next to his chair. He was glad Sirius had at least something to do, so that he didn't go insane from loneliness.

As Harry was popped into the Room of Requirement by Dobby for the last Dragon Order meeting before the holidays, his eyes widened when he saw how Dobby had decorated the place for Christmas. He could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend _HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!_

Harry had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open, and Luna entered, looking dreamy as always.

"Hello," she said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. "These are nice, did you put them up?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "It was Dobby, my house-elf."

"Mistletoe," Luna said dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries placed almost over Harry's head. He jumped out from under it. "Good thinking," Luna said very seriously. "It's often infested with nargles."

Harry didn't bother asking. No doubt, Mr. Lovegood had mistaken yet another extinct animal for what he called nargles, and convinced Luna that they existed. Just then, Angelina, Katie and Alicia arrived. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.

"Looking for a kiss, Harry?" Katie asked with a teasing smirk. Seeing Harry's confusion, she pointed up. Harry looked, to see that the mistletoe was once more above him. Raising an eyebrow, he stepped to the side, and saw the mistletoe following him. His eye twitched. It had developed a curious habit of doing that every time he got annoyed.

"Dobby!" Harry exclaimed, and with a pop, the mischievously giggling house-elf appeared.

"Harry Potter, sir, calls for Dobby?"

"Dobby, did you charm the mistletoe?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Dobby did, sir, that Dobby did. But Dobby cannot reverse it," he quickly added when Harry opened his mouth to speak. "Dobby set it to last for twelve hours, starting from the moment Harry Potter stepped under it."

Harry narrowed his eyes as he rubbed his chin, staring down at the house-elf. "So, you knew I'd ask you to reverse it... Smooth move, Dobby."

Dobby bowed, then popped away, leaving Harry's eye twitching in annoyance.

"Ah well, who am I to ignore tradition?" Katie asked suddenly, quickly closing the distance between her and Harry. Before he knew what was happening, Katie had put a hand on each of his cheeks, and brought him in for a kiss, making his eyes widen as her lips pressed against his.

As Katie broke the kiss and pulled back, Harry was left standing there, blinking in confusion. However, he didn't have much time to react to Katie's kiss, before Angelina said, "Ooh, me next!" and rushed up to Harry, kissing him as well, quickly followed by Alicia and, surprisingly, Luna.

Ron, Hermione and Neville arrived just as Luna moved away from the blinking Harry.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, seeing the look on Harry's face, immediately becoming worried.

"Harry's house-elf charmed a mistletoe," Katie explained. "It's set to follow him for the next twelve hours, so everyone's allowed to kiss him today. I think he's just over- Hermione!"

Harry was shocked when Hermione closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss. Hermione pulled back with a satisfied smile on his face.

"I've always wanted to try that," she said happily. "Thank you, Harry!"

"Y-You're... welcome?" Harry asked in confusion. Alright, so now, in the span of a few minutes, he not only got his first kiss, but he also got four more. Within five minutes, the room was filled with the Order members, and thanks to Katie and Angelina, Harry had managed to get kissed by Ginny, Hannah, Susan, Parvati, Padma and Lavender. Seeing as it seemed to be national Harry-kissing day, Fred and George, ever the pranksters, decided it would be fun to kiss him as well.

"I hope you don't mind if I don't kiss you, Harry," Cho said with a smile as she approached Harry, holding hands with Cedric. "I don't think Cedric would like that."

"Don't worry about it, Cho," Harry said with a grin. "I think I've been kissed more times than I can handle for today," he said. The incident with Fred and George was still fresh in his mind as he remembered it, and he glared over at the twins, who gave him a simultaneous wink, grinning from ear to ear.

"Okay," Harry said once everything had calmed down, and he had made one last futile attempt at banishing the mistletoe, much to the amusement of the other members. "This evening, we will just be going over what we have done so far, since it's the last meeting before the holidays, and I know most of you would probably forget everything I'd try to teach you today during the three-week break. So-"

"We're not doing anything new?" Smith asked in a disgruntled whisper, loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come-"

His muttering was interrupted when he was suddenly hoisted into the air by an invisible force, courtesy of Harry, who had his newly transformed staff pointed at him.

"Alright, Smith, since you obviously want to learn something new, I have something for you to work on, something I believe you've never even heard of," Harry said as he slowly let Smith drop to the ground. Smith, standing up, looked at him curiously, and Harry grinned. "It's called silence. Think you can try to work on that?"

Everyone laughed as Smith turned a humiliated red.

"As I was saying, pair up!" Harry ordered. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, just for ten minutes, then, when I blow my whistle, we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."

They all divided up obediently, and Harry partnered with Neville as usual. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of "Impedimenta!" People froze for a minute or so, during which their partners would stare aimlessly around the room, watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Harry had unfrozen three times in a row, he had Neville join Ron and Hermione as usual, so that he could walk around the room and watch the others. Five times, he had to duck under poorly aimed spells, and correct the caster, but other than that, everything went smoothly.

After ten minutes of the Impediment Jinx, Harry blew his whistle and waved his staff. Cushions soared out of their cabinet in which they were stashed away, and covered the floor all over the room, as everyone started practicing Stunning. Space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once. Half the group observe the others for a while, then swapped over. Harry felt an immense sense of pride when he watched them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual.

At the end of an hour, Harry called to a halt with his whistle. Neville was so shocked by the whistle that he turned to Harry just as he attempted to Stun Dean. The spell flew straight at Harry, and everyone were clearly shocked when a shimmering shield appeared in front of him, deflecting the Stunner, which bounced off the shield and shot up into the ceiling.

"Protego," Harry informed everyone as he waved his hand, 'causing the shield to disappear. "A strong enough Protego can deflect pretty much any spell, except for the truly powerful ones and, of course, the Unforgivables. This is what I will be teaching you after the holidays. After all, your offense is only as good as your defense. After that... I may be teaching you lot the Patronus Charm." Harry grinned when he saw the excited looks on everyone's faces. "But only if you learn the Protego as well as you've learned everything else I've taught you. Well, that's it for today. Happy Christmas, everyone!"

Harry received many handshakes and pats on the back, including a couple of kisses as the other members of the Dragon Order left the room. Now alone, Harry called for Dobby, who popped him back to the Avalon library.

They popped into existence right in front of Harry's usual chair. Sirius was sitting in his own chair, reading a book that Harry couldn't see the title of. The pop from Dobby's Apparition cause Sirius to jump in surprise as he quickly hid the book behind his back, staring up at Harry in shock.

"W-Wow, Harry, it's been an hour already?" he asked in an attempted nonchalant voice. Harry looked at him suspiciously and pointed his finger at Sirius. From behind Sirius's back, the book soared out and into Harry's waiting hands. Looking over the cover, his eyes widened.

"_Kama Sutra_?"

"Hey, for a student who has spent the last hour getting kisses from every girl in his little study group, it's easy not to be drawn to it, but for a person who spent twelve years in Azkaban, one year on the run, and six months completely alone, the appeal of a dirty book becomes too great to resist!"

Harry handed back the book, shaking his head, but then he blinked and looked at Sirius suspiciously. "How did you know I've been getting kisses during today's Order meeting?"

Sirius's eyes widened, and he nervously tugged his collar. "Er... Um... Canine intuition?"

"Sirius..."

"Fine! I told Dobby to charm the mistletoe!" Sirius admitted, crossing his arms. Harry scoffed as he sat down in his chair, picking up his book again.

"So that's why that crazy elf was giggling like a little schoolgirl when I asked him about it... I should have known you were the mastermind behind it."

"Hey, I took a peek in that book. Merlin really was onto something there."

"I know," Harry said as he pulled up his legs to sit in a lotus position on the chair, closing his eyes. "I'm just about to attempt the meditation he suggested, to find my inner spirit animal."

Doing the exercise that had become like second nature for him, Harry easily cleared his mind. Finding the part of his core that was dedicated to his animal side, however, wasn't as easy as clearing his mind. For Harry, his core had taken shape, to make for easier access. Dumbledore had explained that some wizards had enough to control to do so, which allowed them to search their core more easily. Dumbledore's core, for instance, was a super-sized phoenix nest, not that Harry knew what one of those looked like... Harry's, on the other hand, was a massive, fifty-story skyscraper. As Harry wandered around the hallways of his core, yanking door after door open to find the room containing his spirit animal, finding that more than one were locked, he suddenly found the world around him going black.

Blinking, Harry suddenly found that his body felt smooth, powerful and flexible. That stench... This was Voldemort's mind! Or at least the part of his mind that was currently inhabiting the creature Harry was inside right now. Immediately putting up his Occlumency shields, so as to hide his presence, Harry couldn't help but stick around. He wanted to find out what Voldemort was doing.

He was gliding between shining metal bars, across dark, cold stone... He was flat against the floor, sliding along on his belly. It was dark, yet he could see objects around him shimmering in strange, vibrant colors. So, this was Nagini, then? The thermal vision and overall feeling gave Harry the impression that he was inhabiting the body of a snake.

Nagini was turning her head. At first glance, the corridor was empty, but there was a man sitting on the floor ahead, his chin drooping onto his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark...

Nagini put out her tongue, tasting the man's scent in the air. He was alive, but drowsing... sitting in front of a door at the end of the corridor...

Harry could feel the snake's desire to bite the man, but she suppressed the urge, as she had more important work to do.

But the man was stirring... a silvery cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet, and Harry saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above him, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt... Nagini had no choice... She reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging her fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath her jaw.

The man was yelling in pain, then fell silent. He slumped backward against the wall... Blood was splattering onto the floor. Having seen enough, Harry quietly retreated from Nagini's mind and snapped his eyes open, looking to Sirius in shock.

"Mr. Weasley!" he yelled, making Sirius jump.

"W-What?"

"Mr. Weasley is hurt!" Harry said urgently as he shot to his feet. "I just saw Nagini biting him! He's unconscious!"

Sirius stood up as well, all traces of amusement gone from his face. Instead, he was looking rather pale. "Are you sure, Harry? Positive?"

"I'm sure," Harry said, nodding.

"Wait here," Sirius said as he rushed off. Harry, feeling sweaty, slumped back into his chair again as he wiped his brow, taking long, deep breaths. His eyes drifted shut.

How long did he sit there? He didn't know. It felt like an hour. Maybe two. Was it two? Possibly...

"I hear you've been looking for me."

Harry's eyes slowly opened as he heard the unfamiliar, smooth female voice. He looked down at the floor, to what at first looked to be a large shaggy dog sitting in front of him. As his eyes began to focus he took in the primal feel of the beast and realized it was no dog. It was a wolf. Closer inspection revealed the wolf to be slightly transparent like a Hogwarts ghosts. Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then put them on again.

"Er..."

"You humans are so intelligent," the wolf said in an amused drawl as it stretched out in front of him. "Don't you have anything better to say?"

"Uh..."

"Hey, that's a very interesting statement..." The wolf sounded thoroughly amused, staring at Harry as if watching an funny comedy on television. "Alright, enough playing around."

"You're the only one playing around," Harry said, still blinking in confusion. "Er... who are you?"

"You don't know?" the wolf drawled, sighing heavily. "I mean, you've been looking for me for a while now."

The dots connected quickly for Harry, whose eyes widened in realization.

"You're my spirit animal, aren't you?"

"Correct," the wolf said, nodding. "I had intended on playing hide-and-seek with you for at least a week. However, when I sensed another creature in your mind, I felt it best to claim you as soon as possible."

"Claim me?"

"As my master. I know what I know only because you know it, so you know exactly what I mean by that."

Merlin had written, and Rorshawk (another person who wrote about Animagus training) as well, that the spirit animal, once found, would have to be tamed in order for a wizard or witch to take control of their animal side. In very rare occasions, the animal could come to the wizard, if they were already in harmony with each other, but it was unheard of for a spirit animal to come and claim their master like that.

"I won't claim you today, however," the wolf said, snapping Harry out of his musings. "Your mind is much too stressed at the moment, what with Mr. Weasley getting injured and all, as it should be. When your mind is ready, however, I will appear before you again. Until that time, farewell."

The wolf bowed its head. Then, slowly, it started fading away, and Harry barely had enough time to bow back before it disappeared.

Just as the wolf disappeared, the door to the library opened again, and Sirius came inside, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired, but relieved. Harry shot to his feet and limped over to him. Sirius smiled.

"I told Dumbledore. One of the portraits, Professor Everard, went to his portrait in the Ministry. He called for help, and Arthur was found. He's in St. Mungo's now. The Weasley kids are coming here to stay with Molly. They, and you, will be spending the Christmas here."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "He's gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't doubt it," Sirius said as the two moved back to sit down in their chairs. "But if you hadn't seen what you saw..."

Harry shuddered as he thought about what might have happened. He most certainly didn't want Mr. Weasley to die.

–

The next day, everyone were riotously happy and talkative as they changed out of their robes and into jeans and sweatshirts, though Harry opted to go for a look more similar to that of his godfather. He wore a tee-shirt under a black leather jacket, a jacket that used to belong to Sirius, which Harry had taken from his closet. It didn't fit Sirius anymore, anyway.

Everyone happily greeted Tonks and Mad-Eye, who had turned up to escort them across London, gleefully laughing at the bowler hat Mad-Eye was wearing at an angle to conceal his magical eye and assuring him, truthfully, that Tonks, whose hair was short and bright pink, would attract far less attention on the underground.

Tonks was very interested in Harry's vision of the attack on Mr. Weasley.

"There isn't any Seer blood in your family, is there?" she inquired curiously as they sat side by side on a train rattling toward the heart of the city. Harry had cast a warming charm on himself, so that he didn't need to wear anything except his tee and open jacket.

"No," Harry said, thinking of Trelawney. He couldn't help feeling a little insulted.

"No," Tonks mused, "no, I suppose it's not really prophecy you're doing, is it? I mean, you're not seeing the future, you're seeing the present... It's odd, isn't it? Useful, though..."

"Yeah," Harry nodded as he stroked his chin, "imagine if I hadn't seen it..."

They both shuddered.

"So, why Tonks?" Harry asked, needing something to talk about other than his vision.

"Because Nymphadora is a name that should be buried as deep as possible," Tonks answered immediately, crossing her arms, her nose wrinkling at the name.

"I think it's a great name," Harry said with a shrug as he looked over at Mad-Eye, suppressing a smirk as he saw the man glare at a boy who was staring at him with wide eyes. "It's... unique."

"That's the first time I've heard someone say that," Tonks said, and Harry looked back at her, surprised to see a rosy tinge in her cheeks. "In the past, people have always just made fun of it."

"Don't worry, you won't hear any jokes from me," Harry said with a reassuring grin. "And would you mind if I called you Nym, instead of Tonks? Or maybe Dora?"

Tonks blinked. She looked to be thinking hard for a while. Then, the rosy tinge returned as she glanced away from Harry.

"N-Nym is fine..."

Harry was about to ask her what was wrong, but at that time, the train stopped at a station in the very heart of London, and, getting up, Harry gestured for Tonks to lead the way, which she did, Harry following while leaning on his walking stick. His leg was starting to hurt again...

They all followed her up the escalator, Moody clunking along at the back of the group, his bowler hat tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons of his coat, clutching his wand.

"Hey, where is St. Mungo's hidden, anyway?" Harry asked Tonks.

"Not far from here," Moody grunted, answering for Tonks, who nodded as they stepped out into the wintry air on a broad store-lined street packed with Christmas shoppers. Moody pushed Harry a little ahead of him and stumped along just behind. "Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Diagon Alley was big enough and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry, it's unhealthy. In the end they managed to get a hold of a building up here. Theory was sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd..."

"Yes, because wizards are really skilled at that," Harry muttered, hearing Tonks snort. Moody didn't seem to have heard him, though. He seized Harry's shoulder to prevent them being separated by a gaggle of shoppers plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of electrical gadgets.

"Here we go," Moody said a moment later.

They had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called Purge and Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air. The window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modeling fashions at least ten years out of date. Large signs on all the dusty doors read _CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT_.

"Right," Tonks said as she beckoned them forward to a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy, whose false eyelashes were hanging off, and who was modeling a green nylon pinafore dress. "Everybody ready?"

They nodded, clustering around her, and Tonks leaned close to the glass, looking up at the dummy and said, her breath steaming up the glass, "Wotcher... We're here to see Arthur Weasley."

The dummy gave a tiny nod, beckoned its jointed finger, and Tonks seized Ginny and Mrs. Weasley by the elbows, stepped right through the glass and vanished.

Fred, George and Ron stepped after them, and Harry glanced around at the jostling crowd. Not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as Purge and Dowse Ltd.'s, nor did any of them seem to have noticed that six people had just melted into thin air in front of them.

"C'mon," Moody growled, giving Harry a poke in the back, and together they stepped forward through what felt like a sheet of cool water, much like the Avalon portal, emerging warm and dry on the other side.

There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. They had arrived in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients were making very peculiar noises. A sweaty-faced witch in the center of the front row, who was fanning herself vigorously with a copy of the Daily Prophet, kept letting off a high-pitched whistle as steam came pouring out of her mouth, and a grubby-looking warlock in the corner clanged like a bell every time he moved, and with each clang his head vibrated horribly, so that he had to seize himself by the ears and hold it steady.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

"Are they doctors?" he asked Tonks quietly.

"Doctors?" Tonks asked, shaking her head. "No, they're different from Muggles. They're Healers."

"Over here!" Mrs. Weasley called over the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and they followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk marked inquiries. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like _A clean cauldron keeps potions from becoming poisons_ and _Antidotes are anti-don'ts unless approved by a qualified healer._ There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets that was labelled:

_DILYS DERWENT_

_St. Mungo's Healer 1722–1741_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts School of_

_Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1741–1768_

Dilys was eyeing the Weasley party as if counting them. When Harry caught her eye she gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of her portrait, and vanished.

Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young wizard was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain his predicament to the witch behind the desk.

"It's these – ouch – shoes my brother gave me – ow – they're eating my – OUCH – feet – look at them, there must be some kind of – AARGH – jinx on them and I can't – AAAAARGH – get them off-"

He hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

"The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" the blonde witch asked irritably, pointing at a large sign to the left of her desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

The wizard hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Weasley party moved forward a few steps and Harry read the floor guide:

_**ARTIFACT ACCIDENTS – Ground Floor**_

_(Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc.)_

_**CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES – First Floor**_

_(Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc.)_

_**MAGICAL BUGS – Second Floor**_

_(Contagious maladies, e.g., dragon pox, vanishing sickness,_

_scrofungulus)_

_**POTION AND PLANT POISONING – Third Floor**_

_(Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc.)_

_**SPELL DAMAGE – Fourth Floor**_

_(Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms, etc.)_

_**VISITORS' TEAROOM AND HOSPITAL SHOP – Fifth Floor**_

_If you are unsure where to go, incapable, of normal speech, or_

_unable to remember why you are here, our Welcome Witch will_

_be pleased to help._

A very old, stooped wizard with a hearing trumpet had shuffled to the front of the queue now.

"I'm here to see Broderick Bode!" he wheezed.

"Ward forty-nine, but I'm afraid you're wasting your time," the witch said dismissively "He's completely addled, you know, still thinks he's a teapot... Next!"

A harassed-looking wizard was holding his small daughter tightly by the ankle while she flapped around his head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out the back of her romper suit.

"Fourth floor," the witch said in a bored voice, without asking, and the man disappeared through the double doors beside the desk, holding his daughter like an oddly shaped balloon. "Next!"

Mrs. Weasley moved forward to the desk.

"Hello," she said. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us-?"

"Arthur Weasley?" the witch asked, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley said. "Come on, you lot."

They followed through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of the doors they passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as they passed one door, and every now and then they heard distant wailing. They climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words _"Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites_. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten _Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck, Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye._

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... It ought to be just the family first."

Mad-Eye growled his approval of this idea and set himself with his back against the corridor wall, his magical eye spinning in all directions.

Harry drew back too, but Mrs. Weasley reached out a hand and pushed him through the door, saying, "Don't be silly, Harry, Arthur wants to thank you."

The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned _Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612–1697, inventor of the entrail-expelling curse._

There were only three patients. Mr. Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. Harry was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet by the solitary ray of sunlight falling onto his bed. He looked around as they walked toward him and, seeing whom it was, beamed.

"Hello!" he called, throwing the Prophet aside. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later."

"How are you, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked, bending down to kiss his cheek and looking anxiously into his face. "You're still looking a bit peaky..."

Harry didn't really want to stay. He didn't want a thank you for doing the right thing. Alright, maybe he did, but not from Mr. Weasley. As quietly as possible, he made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him and sighing.

"That was quick," Tonks said with a smile, standing next to Mad-Eye in the corridor.

"I didn't feel like staying. I kinda wanna be alone for a while," Harry said with a sigh. He looked to Moody, raising an eyebrow. "I feel like getting some tea. Do I need a guard for that, or can I go alone?"

Moody gave off an audible growl as his normal eye narrowed on Harry. Then, after a few seconds, he nodded, and jerked his head to the side. Harry nodded back and walked off, sighing.

He walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As he climbed it, the various Healers called out to him, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies.

As Harry stepped onto the landing of the fourth floor, he came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted _SPELL DAMAGE_. A man was peering out at him with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy, blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a broad, vacant smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth.

"Lockhart?" Harry asked, blinking.

His ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the door and moved toward him, wearing a long, lilac dressing gown.

"Well, hello there!" he said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"How are you, Mr. Lockhart?" Harry asked politely. Sure, the man had tried to erase his memories, but that didn't mean Harry wouldn't be polite. It was, after all, proper manners.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" Lockhart said exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!" Then, he took a long look at Harry, gazing at him intently as his smile slowly faded from his face. "Haven't we met?"

"We have," Harry said with a nod. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?"

"Teach?" Lockhart repeated, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I?" And then, the smile reappeared on his face so suddenly that it was rather alarming. "Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then, and nobody will be left out!"

But just then, a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor, and a voice said, "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?"

A motherly-looking Healer came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at Harry.

"Oh, Golderoy, you have a visitor! How lovely! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs," Lockhart told the Healer with another glittering smile. "He wants loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him," the Healer said, taking Lockhart's arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago. We very much hope that his liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know. He must have slipped out while I was bringing in lunch, the door's usually kept locked... not that he's dangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "bit of a danger to himself, bless him... Doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back... It is nice of you to have come to see him."

"Actually, I didn't exactly come to see him," Harry said, clearing his throat, "however, I do have time to spare, and I am interested in taking a look around."

"Interested in being a Healer, then?" the Healer asked as they walked along the corridor.

"Well, I am interested in the arts, but the profession... I don't know if it's something I could do. I am much too active, and I think I would be more suited as an Auror. In that line of work, Healer training is important."

"Agreed," the Healer said as they reached the door of the Janus Thickey ward. She pulled out her wand. "There are so many Aurors these days that are sent here simply because they weren't capable of treating their own minor wounds. Alohomora."

The door swung open as she led the way inside, keeping a firm grasp on Lockhart's arm until she had settled him into an armchair beside his bed.

"This is our long-term resident ward," she informed Harry in a low voice. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms, along with a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement... Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen a real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn't speaking any language we recognize yet... Well, I must finish inspecting the patients. Please, feel free to take a look around."

"Thank you," Harry said with a smile as he did just that. This ward bore unmistakable signs of being a permanent home to its residents. They had many more personal effects around their beds than in Mr. Weasley's ward. The wall around Lockhart's headboard, for instance, was papered with pictures of himself, all beaming toothily and waving at the new arrivals. He had autographed many of them to himself in disjointed, childish writing.

The moment he had been deposited in his chair by the Healer, Lockhart pulled a fresh stack of photographs toward him, seized a quill, and started signing them all feverishly.

"You can put them in envelopes," he said, throwing the signed pictures into Harry's lap one by one as he finished them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail... Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly... I just wish I knew why..." He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigor. "I suspect it is simply my good looks..."

A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bed opposite, staring at the ceiling. He was mumbling to himself and seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Two beds along was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur. Harry was reminded of what happened to Hermione during their second year, although fortunately, the damage, in her case, hadn't been permanent.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the Healer as she passed him, and he stood up, pocketing the photographs, as he didn't want to be rude, "that woman," he said, pointing at the furry woman, "what happened to her? Polyjuice accident?"

"Yes, sadly," the Healer said, nodding solemnly. "She was attempting to cheat when it came to Animagus magic, and simply tried to polyjuice herself into a dog. We don't know what to do with her."

"Have you tried giving her a dragon root to chew on?" Harry asked, seeing the Healer go wide-eyed at the suggestion.

"My boy, dragon root is used to treat various foot injuries, not polyjuice accidents."

"It worked for Madam Pomfrey when my classmate accidentally put a cat hair in her polyjuice," Harry said, shrugging. The Healer's eyes, already wide, widened even further. Then, she smiled brightly.

"That Madam Pomfrey has more skill in the Healing arts than this whole place combined, I say, dragon root..." Giving off a happy noise, she made a move to leave the ward, but Harry stopped her again.

"And, sorry, but those two..." Harry said, gesturing for the beds at the far end of the ward. In them was a man and a woman, their hair white. Harry recognized the face of the woman anywhere, even though it was no longer the plump and happy-looking face he had seen in Moody's photograph. "A-Are they... the Longbottoms?"

"Ah, yes..." the Healer said, nodding once more. "Yes, they have been here for years now, since before I started working here." She lowered her voice. "They were tortured, see, by You-Know-Who's followers-"

"The Lestranges, yeah, I know," Harry said, his eyes darkening. "They should've gotten the Kiss... Anyway, may I...?"

"Why, certainly. I think they would be happy to have a visitor," the Healer said with a bright smile.

And she left the ward, while Harry walked over to the Longbottoms.

Their faces were this and worn, and they looked like but shadows of their former selves.

Harry pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the two beds. The Longbottoms flinched at the sound of the wooden chair hitting the stone floor, and gave Harry fearful looks, though the fear seems to melt away as they saw the sympathy in Harry's eyes.

"Hello," Harry said with a sad smile on his face. "My name is Harry James Potter. I am the son of James and Lily Potter. I'm a friend of your son, Neville?"

The two didn't answer. They just stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes that reminded him a lot of Luna's eyes.

–

"Back again?" Sirius asked as he stepped into the Avalon library.

Harry nodded, not looking up from his book. Strewn all around him were books and books and books. Sirius cautiously made his way over, careful not to step on any of the books on the floor, then plopped down in his usual chair.

"What're you reading about?"

"The mind," Harry answered, still not looking up. "I saw the Longbottoms when I went to St. Mungo's," he said, and that seemed to be all Sirius needed to know, as he reached over and picked up one of the books on the table.

"I'll help. What do you need me to look for?"

Harry looked up and took a look at the title. _Advanced potions of the third century_.

"A potion to treat insanity, of course," Harry said, before going back to his book. He looked over passages growing ever more frustrated.

..._two acres of flat land is required for the ritual to_...

..._wand movement is simple enough for the counter-curse_...

..._is the Chinese burn heal, which can, if performed properly, treat even dragon burns_...

..._excellent against various poisons_...

..._the Cruciatus curse has many side-effects, such as_...

Harry flipped to the other page in frustration. Then, his eyes widened, and he went back to the previous page.

_Cruciatus curse._

_The most widely damaging curse in existence today is the Cruciatus curse._

_Incredibly dark magic, the Cruciatus has many side-effects, such as torn_

_muscles, spontaneous spasms, nerve damage, insomnia, blindness, mute-_

_ness, congenital analgesia, and insanity, among others. Sadly, I have not_

_been able to find a cure for the last three, as these afflictions are not the_

_same as their 'normal' counterparts._

"Shite..." Harry muttered as he slammed the book shut. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not even Merlin could find the cure for the insanity that can be caused by the Cruciatus."

"Then I suppose this is a wasted effort?" Sirius asked as he closed his book and put it away. Harry nodded.

"However, I won't stop. I'll be the first wizard to cure it," he announced, to which Sirius raised an amused eyebrow.

"Setting goals now, are we? That's rare, coming from you."

"It's time to start embracing who I am," Harry said with a shrug. "I have all this power, and trying to live a normal life will prevent me from being able to use all of that power. So if I can't live a normal life, I'll just go big, I figured."

Sirius gave another one of his bark-like laughs.

Harry awoke a few days later, on Christmas morning, to find a stack of presents at the foot of his bed. He sorted through them, and found one with Hermione's handwriting on it. She had given him a book that resembled a diary, except that it said things like, "Do it today, or later you'll pay!" every time he opened a page.

Sirius and Lupin had given Harry a set of excellent books entitled _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts_, which had superb, moving color illustrations of all the counter-jinxes and hexes it described. Harry flicked through the first colume eagerly. He could see that it was going to be very useful in his plans for the Order. Hagrid had sent a furry, brown wallet that had fangs, which were supposed to be an anti-theft device. Harry couldn't put any money in it without getting his fingers ripped off. Then, he remembered _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Shrugging, Harry stroked the bottom of the wallet, and watched as it slowly opened, giving off a content noise.

Tonks's present was a small, working model of a Firebolt, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given him the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies, and Dobby had given him a truly dreadful painting that Harry suspected had been done by the elf himself. However, it was nicer than most paintings, as this came from the heart, so he, of course, hung it in the master bedroom.

Once everyone had had their Christmas lunch in the Avalon dining hall, the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione, who'd arrived the day after the St. Mungo's visit, were planning to pay Mr. Weasley another visit, escorted by Mad-Eye and Lupin. Mundungus turned up in time for Christmas pudding and trifle, having managed to 'borrow' a car for the occasion, as the Underground didn't run on Christmas Day. The car, which Harry doubted very much had been taken with the knowledge or consent of its owner, had had a similar Enlarging Spell put upon it as the Weasleys' old Ford Anglia. Although normally proportioned outside, ten people with Mundungus driving were able to fit into it quite comfortably.

The journey to St. Mungo's was quick, as there was very little traffic on the roads. A small trickle of witches and wizards were creeping furtively up the otherwise deserted street to visit the hospital. Harry and the others go out of the car, and Mundungus drove off around the corner to wait for them. They strolled casually toward the window, where the dummy in green nylon stood. Then, one by one, they stepped through the glass.

The reception area looked pleasantly festive: The crystal orbs that illuminated St. Mungo's had been turned to red and gold so that they became gigantic, glowing Christmas baubles. Holly hung around every doorway, and shining, white Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in every corner, each topped with a gleaming gold star. It was less crowded than the last time they had been there, although halfway across the room, Harry found himself shunted aside by a witch with a walnut jammed up her left nostril.

"Family argument, eh?" the blond witch behind the desk asked with a smirk. "You're the third I've seen today... Spell Damage, fourth floor..."

As they reached the door to Mr. Weasley's room, Harry stopped, and noticed the others looking at him expectantly.

"I'm going to go up to the fourth. There's some people there I want to see."

He gave Lupin a meaningful look, and Lupin nodded immediately. Harry had told him about him meeting the Longbottoms.

"Well, don't take too long, Harry. Arthur will probably want to see you."

"I'll be back soon," Harry said with a nod as he walked off. Then, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder at Hermione, who'd made a move to go after him. "Don't follow me. I'll know if you do."

Harry made his way up to the Janus Thickey ward and knocked on the door. Within moments, the same motherly-looking Healer opened the door, now wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair.

"Oh, Harry, dear! How good to see you," the Healer said with a bright, joyous smile. "Please, come in!"

"Thank you," Harry said as he walked into the ward. He was disappointed when he saw that the Longbottoms' beds had had flowery curtains drawn around them to give the occupants some privacy.

"Frank and Alice have visitors," the Healer informed Harry, answering his unasked question. "They should be done soon. Well, feel free to walk around. I have to finish handing out the Christmas presents."

Harry nodded as he watched the Healer. Having nothing better to do, he walked up to Lockhart's bed, where he found the man sitting with his head down, scribbling furiously on photograph after photograph with his peacock-feather quill. The man looked up as Harry approached, and immediately flashed a huge smile.

"Ah, it's you!" he said happily. "Er... Harold, yes?"

"Harry, but that was close," Harry said. The last time, Lockhart had called him Reginald. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, Harry took out a small, red pocket book, holding it out to Lockhart. "I thought you might like a present. I think you can relate to this book."

Blinking owlishly, Lockhart stopped scribbling, and took the book, staring at the cover. "_Who am I? (English version)_ by Erik Hammarö?" he asked, turning the book over. Then, he looked up at Harry again, smiling brightly once more! "Thank you, Hank! Wait, I don't have anything for you... Oh! Here! A photograph!"

Immediately, Harry found himself holding a handful of signed photographs. He thanked Lockhart, then moved away from the bed, wishing the man a Happy Christmas.

It was perfect timing, as just then, the curtains were drawn back from the Longbottoms' beds, and two visitors were walking away. One was a formidable-looking old witch wearing a long, green dress, a moth-eaten fox fur, and a pointed hat decorated with what was unmistakably a stuffed vulture, and trailing behind her, looking thoroughly depressed was Neville. The boy froze, wide-eyed, as he spotted Harry, who had frozen in his tracks as well.

"Neville," Harry said, making Neville jump and cower as if a bullet had narrowly missed him.

"Friend of yours, Neville, dear?" Neville's grandmother asked graciously, bearing down upon them.

Neville looked as if he would rather be anywhere in the world but there. A dull, purple flush was creeping up his plump face, and he wasn't making eye contact with Harry.

"Ah, yes," his grandmother said, looking closely at Harry and sticking out a shriveled, claw-like hand for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Thank you," Harry said, shaking hands. He noticed that Neville's grandmother's eyes landed on his dragon ring, and they then flashed over to Neville, who was fiddling with his own ring, something Harry had noticed that Neville did whenever he was nervous.

"Yes, Neville has told me all about you. You have helped him more than once, have you not? He's a good boy," she said, casting a sternly appraising look down her rather bony nose at Neville, "but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say..."

"Actually, madam, I have noticed that Neville is very talented," Harry said pleasantly, to which the color in Neville's face deepened. "Especially since he and his wand aren't compatible."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Longbottom asked, blinking. "What did you say?"

"His wand," Harry said calmly. "It is his father's, isn't it?" At Mrs. Longbottom's nod, he continued. "You will only get less than great results from a wand that hasn't chosen you, or which hasn't been won. Mr. Ollivander told me this, and since Neville's wand has previously chosen someone else, and hasn't been won in a duel, it cannot work fully for him."

Mrs. Longbottom stood silently as she stared at Harry, clearly shocked that he knew that much. Harry smiled.

"But even with a non-compatible wand, Neville is still near the top of my class."

"Your class?"

"Yes, what with Madame Umbridge teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, some of the students have decided it isn't enough for them to learn properly, so I offered to teach them instead. Hence the rings," Harry said, showing off his dragon ring.

"Well, I can tell that Neville's stories aren't just exaggerations," Mrs. Longbottom said approvingly. "So, what brings you to this ward, Mr. Potter?"

"I am here to see Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom," Harry said pleasantly, which made Mrs. Longbottom and Neville widen their eyes in surprise. "I stumbled upon this ward a couple of days ago, and met them. I guess you could say that, after meeting them, they have become something of a goal of mine."

"Goal?" Neville spoke up for the first time. He had something of an accusing look in his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Harry's smile didn't disappear. "I intend to find a cure," he said calmly, making Neville gasp, and Mrs. Longbottom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Do you even know what happened to them?"

"Of course I do. I've known since my fourth year," Harry said, nodding as his smile disappeared. "Cruciatus Curse, by the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr.," he said. Then, he looked at Neville. "I'm sorry for not telling you that I knew about them, Nev, but I saw the trial in Dumbledore's memories by accident, and he made me swear not to tell anyone, since it was your secret to share."

"What's this?" Mrs. Longbottom asked sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" Mrs. Longbottom said angrily. "You should be _proud_, Neville, _proud_! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville said very faintly.

"They were Aurors, you know," Mrs. Longbottom informed Harry, "and very well respected within the Wizarding community. Highly gifted, the pair of them. I- yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

Neville's mother had come edging down the ward in her nightdress. She didn't speak, and made timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand.

"Again?" Mrs. Longbottom asked, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well... Neville, take it, whatever it is..."

But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.

"Very nice, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said in a falsely cheery voice, patting Neville's mother on the shoulder. But Neville had quietly said, "Thanks, Mum."

His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself. Harry watched her go. This was interesting... He idly noticed Neville staring at him expectantly. Harry raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Neville.

"What?"

"Are you onto something?" Neville asked. Harry was about to ask something, but Neville answered his question before he asked it. "You had that intense look in your eyes. You always get it when you study our forms and such during our meetings."

"Just thinking," Harry said distantly as he looked back to Neville's mother. "I was just... thinking..."

–

_Christmas passed, and they went back to Hogwarts, where Harry immediately called for a meeting of the Dragon Order. He had decided to step up their training, very pleased to see Neville with a brand new wand. The Order was his only focus during his time in Hogwarts that year. Well, the Order, and training and studying. He hardly even paid attention in class, instead focusing on what he had read about between classes, working on his Legilimency and Occlumency, or training his Animagus magic. This is all pretty boring, and basically the same pattern, so I won't bother with it. I'll just give you a summary._

_..._

_What? Well, if you want to hear about doing the same thing over and over and over, then find a pensieve, get a memory, and loop it, because I'm not doing it. Now stay quiet and listen!_

_Professor Trelawney was fired from the Divination post, but Dumbledore was one step ahead of Umbridge, who was trying to expel the former teacher from the castle. He told her that only the Headmaster had authority to do that. He had also foreseen what was going to happen, and hired another teacher, Firenze the friendly centaur, who had helped Harry in his first year. Firenze had been kicked out of his herd because he chose to help Dumbledore, so it was very noble of him to do so._

_Umbridge obviously didn't want this insult to slide, so after... well, I don't know how long, as it hasn't been recorded, and Harry wasn't there to witness it, she came up with some way, don't ask me how, to get Dumbledore fired. He had apparently escaped with the style one came to associate with Dumbledore, however, and the students were a few days later informed that Umbridge had been assigned the position of Headmistress of Hogwarts. She was, however, not allowed into Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle refused to move for her._

_Uh, let's see... What else happened? Er... Oh, right! Grawp! See, when Hagrid came back much later than he should have, he was beaten and bruised, though he refused to tell Harry and Hermione why. Well, after Umbridge's inspection of his lesson, he told them. Grawp... See, Grawp was Hagrid's half-brother on his mother's side. Unlike Hagrid, he was a full giant, and pretty... er... well, dumb. He'd been the victim of bullying among the giants, and Hagrid brought him back to England for a better life. Contrary to popular belief, this wasn't the stupidest thing Hagrid had ever done, because dumb as he was, Grawp was eager to learn, and instead of squashing Harry and Hermione immediately, he had taken a liking to them, no doubt seeing them as friends._

_Alright, that's about all that happened. A nice, quick summary without words wasted on repetition. Now, it was time for the OWL tests..._

–

Harry was extremely frustrated on the day of the first OWL tests. It wasn't because of how much studying he needed to do or anything. It was more because of the massive black-market trade that had sprung up, along with the fifth years' odd behavior. Ernie Macmillan had developed an irritating habit of asking people about their study habits, while telling them about his own, Lisa Turpin had taken to chewing on parchment, and was spitting out pieces of it wherever she went, and the black-market...

Students everywhere were approaching Harry, offering him various aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness. He was getting sick of it, and had spent much more time than he really wanted in the Room of Requirement or Avalon to study alone. He had cursed Harold Dingle for offering him powdered dragon claw, which, if consumed, gives the consumer's brain a boost for hours. The reason he cursed Dingle was because it wasn't powdered dragon claw. It was dried doxy droppings.

Once breakfast was over on the day of the Charms examinations, the fifth and seventh years milled around in the entrance hall, while the other students went off to lessons. Then, at half-past nine, they were called forward class by class to reenter the Great Hall, which was now very different. The four House tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall, where McGonagall stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet, she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hourglass on the desk beside her, on which were also spare quills, ink bottles, and rolls of parchment.

Harry lowered his eyes to the first question: _a) Give the incantation, and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly..._

This test was going to be a piece of cake. Smiling, Harry bent over the parchment and began to write...

–

"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Hermione asked anxiously in the entrance hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. "I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time... did you put in the counter-charm for hiccups? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much, and on question twenty-three-"

"You did fine, Hermione," Harry said as he sat on the steps leading up to the second floor. "You did perfectly... fucking... fine..."

"Harry!"

"Language, I know, but I don't care," Harry said irritably. "You did fine, alright? You always do fine, and you did now, just like I did, so stop fretting and just sit down!"

The fifth years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four House tables reappeared over the lunch hour) and then trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forward in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking one another in the back or eye by mistake.

Hermione's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle, and Daphne Greengrass. Students who had already been tested did not return, so Harry had no idea how Hermione had done. Perfect, no doubt.

Ten minutes later, Flitwick called, "Parkinson, Pansy... Patil, Padma... Patil, Parvati... Potter, Harry."

Harry walked into the Great Hall, leaning calmly against his staff as he put his Occlumency to good use. It would be prudent for him to be calm during the examination. He didn't want to do anything stupid.

"Professor Tofty is free, Potter," Flitwick squeaked, standing just inside the door. He pointed Harry toward what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner, who was sitting beside a small table in a far corner, a short distance away from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing Malfoy.

"Potter, is it?" Professor Tofty asked, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Harry as he approached. "The famous Potter?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him. The wine glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry couldn't suppress a grin, and Professor Tofty, misunderstanding, smiled back at him encouragingly.

"That's it," he said in his quavery old voice, "no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this eggcup and make it do some cartwheels for me..."

"Do you want song with that?" Harry asked, seeing the old man blink slowly. Then, he leaned closer to Harry.

"What was that?"

"Do you want it to sing too, sir?" Harry asked as he waved his hand at the egg cup, which started to do cartwheels on the table, all the while singing 'I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts.'

On the whole, Harry aced the examination. His Levitation Charm, Color-Change, everything was performed flawlessly without the use of a wand or his staff. Not only did he perform the charms perfectly, but he also made several additions to the spells he performed, for Professor Tofty's amusement.

There was no time to relax that night, as most students went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in studying for Transfiguration the next day. Unfortunately, Harry was chosen to test Hermione over and over and over, until he finally managed to convince his bushy haired friend that she had, in fact, memorized the whole bloody textbook. Harry didn't need to test himself in order to figure out that he had memorized it all.

As with the previous day, Harry allowed himself a semblance of arrogance as he proclaimed to Hermione that he had aced the written test. There was no way any of his answers were wrong. He had even written more than was required on most of the questions.

The practical portion also went exceedingly well, and he surprised Professor Marchbanks with the Switching Spell by wandlessly switching her fingers with his own over and over, each time changing their places constantly in rapid succession until each finger had been in all twenty finger positions.

They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (Harry was positive that he had aced that, too) and then, on Thursday, Defenase Against the Dark Arts. Here, Harry wasn't just positive that he aced it. He was one hundred percent sure that he passed. He aced the written portion, and took particular pleasure in the practical examination, performing all the defensive spells and counter-jinxes right in front of Umbridge, who was watching coolly from near the doors into the entrance hall.

"Oh, bravo!" Professor Tofty, who was examining Harry again, cried when Harry demonstrated a perfect boggart banishing spell. "Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Potter... unless..."

He leaned forward a little.

"I heard, from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, who heard it from Amelia Bones, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...?"

Harry raised his staff, as he wasn't capable of doing this wandlessly, looked directly at Umbridge, and imagined her getting sacked.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The silver stag erupted from the coal orb on the staff and cantered the length of the hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress, and when it dissolved into mist, Professor Tofty clapped his veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.

"Excellent!" he said joyfully. "Very well, Potter, you may go!"

On Monday, Harry was sure that Snape would be very upset, since Harry found the written Potions exam to be extremely easy. The same could be said for the practical part, now that he didn't have Snape breathing down his neck. When Professor Marchbanks said, "Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over," Harry corked his sample flask, feeling that he had brewed it perfectly.

On Tuesday was Care of Magical Creatures, another breeze for him. Even though he didn't necessarily like the course, he felt a need to do exceedingly well, as Hagrid was watching the whole thing through the window of his hut. After the plump little witch who was examining him let him go, he flashed Hagrid a brief but confident thumbs up.

On Wednesday morning was the written Astronomy exam, and after lunch was supposed to be Harry's Divination exam, but he was happy to find out that he didn't have to attend, as his Magic Sensing was registered as an actual class. At eleven o'clock that night, the practical part of the Astronomy test took place at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It was a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still.

The grounds were bathed in a silvery moonlight, and there was a slight chill in the air, which was quickly rectified by one of Harry's Warming Charms. Too bad he was so selfish that he only used it on himself.

Each student set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marchbank gave the word, proceeded to fill in the blank star chart he or she had been given.

Professors Marchbank and Tofty strolled among them, watching as they entered the precise positions of the starts and planets they were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills.

Half an hour passed, then an hour. The little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished.

As Harry finished his exam (first), however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where he was standing, so that light spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. Harry glanced down curiously, having nothing better to do, and saw six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut and the lawn became a sea of darkness once more.

Harry had a bad feeling about this... He squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they hadn't been moving, and the moonlight hadn't been gliding over the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they stood. Even at a distance, Harry recognized the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group.

He couldn't think why Umbridge would be taking a stroll outside past midnight, much less accompanied by five others. Then somebody coughed behind him, but he didn't care. Then, he saw where they were heading. They had reached Hagrid's hut, and Umbridge knocked loudly on the door, which was followed by a series of muffled barks.

The door opened, and the six figures were silhouetted against the lights from inside Hagrid's hut as they walked over the threshold. The door closed again, and there was silence once more.

"No..." Harry whispered, shaking his head to himself.

After a long, agonizing silence, there was a loud roar coming from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around Harry ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered in the direction of Hagrid's cabin instead.

Professor Tofty gave a dry little cough.

"Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls," he said softly.

Most people returned to their telescopes, and Harry looked to his left, to see that Hermione was gazing transfixed at Hagrid's.

"Ahem... Twenty minutes to go," Professor Tofty announced.

Hermione jumped and returned at once to her star chart, while Harry went back to looking at Hagrid's cabin.

There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried out in pain as they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes, hastening to see what was going on below.

Hagrid's door had burst open, and by the light flooding out of the cabin, they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.

"No!" Harry exclaimed loudly, making a lot of people jump.

"My boy!" Professor Tofty chided in a scandalized voice. "This is an examination."

But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star charts anymore. Jets of red light were still flying beside Hagrid's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him. He was still upright and still, as far as Harry could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds. A man yelled, "Be reasonable, Hagrid!" and Hagrid roared, "Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"

Harry could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping at the wizards surrounding him, until a Stunning Spell caught him, and he fell to the ground. Hagrid's howl contained just as much fury as that which was burning in Harry's core at that moment, and the half-giant lifted the culprit bodily from the ground, and threw him. The man flew what looked like ten feet, and didn't get up again. Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth.

"That's it, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, not caring if he was disrupting the examination. "Bash their brains in!"

"Look!" Parvati squealed, leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle, where the front doors seemed to have opened again. More light had spilled out onto the dark lawn, and a single, long, black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.

"Now, really!" Professor Tofty said anxiously. "Only sixteen minutes left, you know!"

But nobody paid him the slightest attention. They were watching the person now sprinting toward the battle beside Hagrid's cabin.

"How dare you!" the figure shouted as she ran. "How _dare_ you!"

"It's McGonagall!" Hermione whispered, and Harry immediately felt dread building up in him.

"Leave him alone! _Alone_, I say!" McGonagall yelled through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such-"

Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. No fewer than four Stunners had shot from the figures around the cabin toward Professor McGonagall. Halfway between the cabin and castle, the red beams collided with her. For a moment, she looked luminous, illuminated by an eerie, red glow, then was lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

"WHAT?" Harry roared as Professor Tofty shouted, "Galloping gargoyles!"

Harry grabbed his walking stick, transforming it back into his staff, and rose from the floor.

"Harry, no!" Hermione cried, but Harry didn't listen. He shot off, flying straight toward the figures by Hagrid's cabin. He was seeing red. He wanted blood.

As he reached the wizards, he dove, and stabbed the tip of his staff into the ground. The ground in a twenty foot radius pulsed sky blue. Then, a nanosecond later, the earth exploded upward with a loud BOOM! The blast sent two of the remaining four wizards flying. He was pleased to see that one of them was Umbridge.

Casting a quick Protego, he blocked a stunner from the man he recognized as Dawlish. His cry of fright when Harry had exploded the ground gave him away. He took advantage of Dawlish's shock by sending a Stunner right back at him, this one extremely powerful. When it slammed into Dawlish, it had the same effect as the four Stunners had on McGonagall. Dawlish was lifted off his feet and was sent flying a good ten feet, before slamming painfully into the ground.

Next, Harry turned to the other man, who cast another Stunner at him. Harry swung his staff in an underhanded swing as if playing tennis. A gong-like sound echoed through the darkness as the man was launched high into the air.

"COWARDS!" Harry roared as the man thudded into the ground, unmoving. He looked at Umbridge and the last man, who were getting up from the ground. "YOU FUCKING COWARDS!" He looked to Hagrid. "Get out of here, Hagrid! I'll take care of them!"

Usually, Hagrid would have argued, but for some reason, he obeyed Harry as quickly as he would Dumbledore, hoisting the prone form of Fang onto his shoulders, before sprinting off into the Forbidden Forest.

"Potter! You'll-"

Harry didn't let Umbridge finish. He threw spell after spell at her and her partner, both of whom were dodging and shielding. He was relentless. He didn't give them a chance to counterattack as he tore into them. How many spells had he cast now? He had no idea, but he was nowhere near tired, he knew that much.

The two were smart enough to separate, so that Harry could only focus on one opponent at a time. He didn't mind. He wanted to save Umbridge for last, anyway. On the verge of growling, Harry tore into the man, occasionally casting a Protego behind him whenever he sensed Umbridge trying to curse him behind his back.

Steadily, Harry moved closer and closer to the man as he threw spell after spell, getting some weird sense of satisfaction when he saw the man dodging and shielding in a panicked manner. Finally, Harry got close enough, and swung his staff in an underhanded swing again.

Once more, the gong was heard as the man was sent flying. He, however, wasn't sent flying straight up. He was thrown up and away from Harry, in a perfect angle that allowed him to crash loudly into the class taking their examination on the parapet of the Astronomy Tower.

Finally, they were alone... Slowly, Harry turned to face Umbridge, and he was certain that he saw fear in her eyes. Good. He would teach her that there were more terrifying things in this world than her. She wasn't even a fly compared to him.

"Stupefy!" Umbridge cried, firing another jet of red light at Harry, who merely deflected it with a twitch of his staff. "Impedimenta! Stupefy! Incarcerous!"

Again and again Harry blocked or deflected her spells as he moved steadily closer.

"Crucio!"

Harry had a millisecond to react, but it was more than enough as he moved out of the way of the Unforgivable. Having had enough of playing around, Harry pointed his staff at Umbridge.

"Expelliarmus!"

Umbridge's wand flew out of her hand and into Harry's waiting one. Stabbing his staff into the ground, he gave Umbridge a menacing grin as he grabbed Umbridge's wand in both hands. Oh, he was going to enjoy this!

"Stop!" Umbridge cried, but Harry didn't listen. With a loud crack, Harry snapped Umbridge's wand and dropped the two pieces to the ground. Umbridge gave of a very high-pitched shriek of fright when her wand was snapped. Defenseless now, she no doubt understood just how bad her situation looked, as she started pleading with Harry, who had grabbed his staff again. "P-Potter, be reasonable... You wouldn't...?"

"Wouldn't what?" Harry asked as he tilted his head to the side, taking up a position as if getting ready to tee off. Holding his staff like a golf club, he grinned at Umbridge. "I'm a nutter, remember?" With that said, he pulled his staff back and swung. For the third time that night, the gong was heard as Umbridge was sent flying. She shrieked in fear as she flew through the air in an arc, before crashing into and through the roof of Hagrid's cabin.

"Dobby!" Harry said, now that the fighting was over. With a pop, the house-elf appeared, staring up at Harry with his huge, excited eyes. "I think I may be expelled," Harry informed the elf. "Take me _there_."

"Expelled, sir?" Dobby squeaked in surprise. Then, he seemed to remember his order and nodded, grabbing Harry's hand before popping away.

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	7. Chapter 7

**Another chapter out! Only have one thing to say before we start... Woo! Iron Man!**

**Enjoy!**

–

"YOU WHAT?"

Harry was sure that Mrs. Weasley's voice carried through the entire castle of as he sat in the War Room of Avalon. The room was very large, with a single large, round table in the middle of it. On the surface of the table was a map of the entire world. Harry sat in one of the forty-five chairs around the table, along with Sirius, Lupin, Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore, Tonks, and Mad-Eye.

"I attacked Umbridge and four other guys," Harry repeated himself calmly as he sat with his feet on the table. Sirius looked proud of him, Lupin looked neutral, as always, Mrs. Weasley looked enraged, Hagrid looked worried, along with Tonks, Mad-Eye was staring hard at Harry with both eyes, and Dumbledore was giving him a calculating look.

"Why would you do such a thing, Harry?" Dumbledore asked finally after a few moments of silence.

"They attacked Professor McGonagall," Harry said, still calm as ever, as he crossed his arms. "They hit her with four simultaneous Stunners. They deserved what they got."

"And that's what is called Gryffindor loyalty," Sirius said proudly, patting Harry on the shoulder.

Harry saw that Mrs. Weasley was about to speak, so he stood up, shoving his hand into his pocket as he grabbed his walking stick with his other hand.

"You know what? I know that you're all gonna say that I was reckless, that I was stupid to attack a teacher, which has no doubt gotten me expelled, that I shouldn't have done it, that I should have just kept my head down, but what's done is done, and I regret nothing. If I've gotten expelled for doing the right thing, then I am happy to have been expelled. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do."

And he left the War Room. They were the stupid ones. What was he supposed to do? What if McGonagall had died? Four simultaneous Stunners at her age?

He had no regrets, and now, he was going to go to his library, and he was going to find some way to cure the Longbottoms.

That night, he found himself sitting in a meditative position on the floor of the library. He was communicating with his inner wolf.

"That was a very noble thing you did," the wolf said with a tone of what sounded like approval in her voice. "You're very protective of your pack. You get that from me, you know."

"Yeah, I figured as much," Harry said with a smile.

"You know, you are turning out to be... pack..."

The wolf's mouth was moving, but no sound was heard, and Harry blinked in confusion. This was very strange... His surroundings started to get enveloped in darkness. Immediately, Harry sensed Voldemort's connection, and found himself walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries, the corridor Voldemort had showed to him over and over throughout the year. He was walking with a firm and purposeful thread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination. The black door swung open as it usually did in his visions, and now he was in the circular room with its many doors.

He went straight across the stone floor and through the second door, past patches of dancing light on the walls and floor, and he heard an odd, mechanical clicking, but there was no time to explore.

He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others.

Once again, he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres. When he reached shelf number ninety-seven, he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows.

But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving upon the floor like a wounded animal.

A voice issued from Harry's own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness, "Take it for me... Lift it down, now... I cannot touch it... but you can..."

The black shape upon the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm, and heard the high, cold voice say, "Crucio!"

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand, but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting..."

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was blood-stained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance...

"You'll have to kill me," Sirius whispered.

"Undoubtedly, I shall in the end," the cold voice said. "But you will fetch it for me first, Black... You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again... We have hours ahead of us, and nobody to hear you scream."

As Voldemort lowered his wand again, Harry's eyes snapped open, and he turned his head back so quickly that he was surprised his neck didn't snap. There was Sirius, sitting in his usual chair, with his nose buried in the Kama Sutra.

He wants me to come, then, Harry thought as he slowly turned his head to face forward again. Well, Harry wasn't about to disappoint the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked, looking up as Harry stood, pulling on the leather jacket that was on the floor next to him.

"For a walk," Harry answered calmly.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Harry," Sirius said as he closed the book, putting it down on the table next to him. "I mean, Dumbledore said that you needed to stay here."

Harry grinned and looked back at Sirius.

"Do you always do as you're told, Padfoot?"

When hearing his old nickname spoken, Sirius broke into a grin as well as he got to his feet.

"I'm going with-"

But Sirius froze suddenly, his mouth opened, forming a word, but it didn't move as he was hit by Harry's Petrificus Totalus.

"Sorry, Padfoot, but I'm going alone on this one," Harry said with a soft smile, before leaving the library.

–

With a pop, Harry appeared in London, in an alley across from the vandalized telephone box that Mr. Weasley had told him was the guest entrance to the Ministry of Magic. He looked around. No one was there. Not a soul. To make sure, Harry sent out a magical pulse, and sensed no one.

Nodding to himself, he moved over to the telephone box, went into it and closed the door, before picking up the phone.

"Let's see here," Harry muttered to himself as he started dialing. "Six two four four two... Magic... How quaint..."

As the dial whirred back into place, a cool, female voice gently spoke, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, here to kick some arse," Harry said with a grin. Might as well make it humorous while he still could.

"Thank you," the cool voice said. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robe.

A square silver badge slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up and read it, unable to suppress a laugh.

_**HARRY POTTER**_

_**Arse-kicker**_

"Visitor, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

Yeah, like there would be anyone in the Ministry at this time of night...

The floor of the telephone box shuddered, and the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box as it sank into the ground. With a dull, grinding noise, he sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit his feet and, widening, rose up his body. Harry bents and peered through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for him in the Atrium, but it was completely empty.

The lift smoothly slid to a halt, and the voice spoke, "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening."

"Wow, you've got great security in this place," Harry said as he stepped out of the telephone box, looking over the Atrium.

He was standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some kind of enormous, heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny, dark wood, and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Harry was sure that, if the Ministry was open, there would be fires burning in the fireplaces, and people would be appearing and disappearing nonstop.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears.

Harry shook his head as he strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall. Entering one of the lifts at the end, he stepped inside and pressed the number nine button, the lowest floor. Sirius had told his that the Department of Mysteries was there. Of course, Mrs. Weasley had yelled at him for a long time for that.

The golden grilles of the lift closed with a bang, and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. When the lift halted, the same cool, female voice from the telephone box spoke, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open. Harry stepped out into the long, dark corridor where nothing was moving but the nearest torches, flickering in the rush of air from the lift. He had seen this place in his visions, so from here on out, he knew the way by instinct.

Harry walked down the corridor steadily, transforming his walking stick back into his staff again. He reached the plain, black door and pushed it. It swung open, and he marched forward.

He was standing in the large, circular room again. Everything in here was black, including the floor and ceiling. Identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looked as if there was dark water underfoot.

Just like in his visions, Harry walked purposefully across the room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and pushed it open.

Again, just as he'd seen it, he saw the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As Harry's eyes got accustomed to the brilliant glare, he saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases or standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of miniscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell jar that stood at the far end of the room.

Not far now...

Harry headed down the narrow space between the lines of the desks, heading, as he had done in his visions, for the source of the light. The crystal bell jar stood on a desk by another door, and at the very heart of the bell jar was a tiny, jewel-bright egg, drifting along in the current inside it. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draft, its feathers became bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar, it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

Humming, Harry looked around, running a hand through his hair.

"Time," he spoke to himself. "It's time." Glancing back into the bell jar, he watched the cycle repeat itself a couple of times, fascinated. Then, he pried his eyes away from the bell jar and turned to the door, pushing it open.

There it was. High as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind him, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold, but Harry quickly warmed himself up with a Warming Charm.

Alright, row ninety-seven. Looking up at the closest row of shelves, he saw, beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles, the glimmering silver figure 53. To the right of him was fifty-four. Heading right, Harry strode forward, past row after row of shelves, the far ends of which were completely enveloped in darkness as he glanced into the aisles. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow, and others were dull and dark within, like blown light-bulbs.

He passed row eighty-four... eighty-five... ninety... Finally, he reached row ninety-seven, and headed into the alley beside it. Walking down the alley, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. Not surprising, though. He already knew he wasn't alone. He had known it from the moment he stepped into this room.

Freezing, Harry found what he was looking for. He was staring up at a dusty glass sphere, which glowed with a dull inner light and appeared as though it hadn't been touched for year. He read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball.

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_and Harry Potter_

Tilting his head to the side curiously, Harry reached up. He had only come here to face Voldemort, but he wanted to hear it. The prophecy that Voldemort was so obsessed about was within reach for Harry.

His fingers closed around the dusty ball's surface. He had expected it to be cold, but it wasn't. On the contrary, it felt as if it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. Smiling softly, he lifted the ball off its shelf and held it up in front of his eyes.

And then, from right behind him, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around him, blocking his way left and right. Eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at his heart. Harry felt himself twitch at the voice.

"Malfoy?" he demanded as he turned around, staring into the slits of Lucius Malfoy's hood. "_Malfoy_? Well, shite... If I had known only small fry would show up, I wouldn't've bothered coming here..."

This response seemed to surprise the Death Eaters, as none of them spoke for a few seconds. Then, one of them seemed to bristle, and a female voice harshly yelled out, "_Small fry_?"

"A woman?" Harry asked politely as his eyebrow slowly rose. "Would you happen to be Alecto Carrow, or Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange!" the woman growled, and just as slowly as it rose, Harry's eyebrow sank.

"Well, I retract my previous statement," he said as he gripped his staff tighter. "It was worth the trip."

Lestrange laughed a cold, cackling laugh. "What's this? Ickle baby Potter expects to fight us?" she asked in a horrible, mock-baby voice.

"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," Malfoy said softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics. The Dark Lord understands this about him. _Now give me the prophecy, Potter_!"

Harry clicked his tongue. "Did you really expect me to give it to you just because you tell me to?" he asked as he shook his head. "And here I hoped that at least one Death Eater had an IQ higher than that of a rock. It appears I was wrong. Then again, I shouldn't've expected much, what with you pure-blood supremacists following Voldemort and all."

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses.

"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix whispered.

"Naturally," Harry said calmly. "I have no problem saying it. Look, Vol-"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare-"

"Did you know he's a half-blood, too?" Harry interrupted, smirking. "My blood is purer than his."

"STUPEFY!"

Harry immediately raised a shield, and the jet of red light that had shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand bounced off of it and hit the shelf across from Harry. Several of the glass orbs shattered.

Two figures, pearly white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak. Their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malfoy and Bellatrix's shouts.

"_...at the Solstice will come a new..."_ the figure of an old, bearded man said.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!" Malfoy roared at Bellatrix's, whose mad eyes seemed to be bulging in the slits of her hood.

"He dared... he dares..." Bellatrix shrieked incoherently. "He stands there... filthy half-blood..."

"I know a lot more than you do about Voldemort," Harry said with a smirk, staring straight into Bellatrix's eyes. "Born Tom Marvolo Riddle, to Merope Gaunt, descendant of Slytherin, and rich Muggle Tom Riddle." Seeing that Bellatrix was about to raise her wand again, he continued. "Just like me, a half-blood, and one of the most powerful wizards of our age. So, are you sure you people stand a chance against me?"

"We won't fall for your tricks, Potter," Malfoy hissed. "Now, give me the prophecy!"

"You want it?" Harry asked, winking at Malfoy. "Then... _take it_!"

With that, he threw the glass ball high into the air. As expected, every Death Eater tilted their heads upward, to watch it, and Harry took advantage of the situation. He raised his staff into the air, then spun it and slammed the orb into the hard marble floor. As with the previous night, the floor exploded in a twenty foot radius, sending chunks of marble flying into the air and knocking the Death Eaters off their feet. The explosion rocked the shelves, causing hundreds upon hundreds of glass balls to fall off them, shattering upon impact with the ground. The air was filled with pearly white figures, all of them speaking at once.

Harry raised his hand, and the ball came soaring back to him, landing safely in his palm. Then, he started fighting. He must have caught them by surprise with his sudden attack, coupled with the hundreds of smashed prophecies, because he easily Stunned three of the Death Eaters still on their feet, and managed to send another one flying with a gong-like sound as he swung his staff.

"STUPEFY!" Harry raised a shield behind him with such speed that the Death Eater who had sent the spell was too surprised to dodge as the Stunner came flying back at him, impacting with his chest.

Harry had to duck and roll, as Malfoy and Bellatrix had gotten to their feet, and were now sending spell after spell at him. These guys were much harder to deal with than the Aurors from yesterday, he had to admit, and he felt a growing sense of panic in his gut. He easily matched, if not surpassed them, when it came to power level, but he suspected he was equal in skill. Not to mention, there were still around seven of them still awake, and most of them were smart enough to start attacking as well.

Harry shielded, countered, attacked, shielded, dodged with only nanoseconds to react as the spells were sent flying all around him. Never had he been so grateful for the Magic Sense as he was now, as he could pinpoint the enemies' locations around him.

He spun around and dodged a Killing Curse from the Death Eater he had knocked off his feet, which caused him to lose his hood. Harry recognized him immediately from the Daily Prophet as Antonin Dolohov, the man who had helped murder Fabian and Gidgeon Prewett, Mrs. Weasley's brothers. The Stunner from Dolohov that Harry blocked was so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet.

Harry had discovered something during his training. He had invented his own spell, only he didn't have a name for it or anything yet. All he needed to do was focus his magic into his staff, and send it out of the orb, to send a powerful blast of pure magic out of it, which was what he did when he exploded the floor. Pointing his staff behind him as he wandlessly cast a Protego to block another spell from Dolohov, Harry fired off a blast of magic at Malfoy and Bellatrix behind him. Judging by their startled cries, they had been blown off their feet, allowing Harry to focus on Dolohov alone.

He dodged a spell that looked like a purple flame, which had a really nasty feel to it, and fired another pulse of magic into the air. Several sharp booms were heard as the ceiling started crumbling, and by a stroke of luck, Dolohov was so focused on firing spell after spell at Harry that he didn't noticed the large piece of marble above him until it was too late. With a sickening _crunch_ and a dull _thud_, Dolohov was crushed under the marble, spraying large amounts of blood, more of it than Harry believed a human body capable of containing, on the floor.

Harry forced down the bile he felt rising in his throat at the gruesome scene and whipped around, engaging in a duel with three other Death Eaters. While skilled, these three were nowhere near Bellatrix, Malfoy or Dolohov's level, and Harry easily disarmed and stunned them all, summoning powerful chains to restrain them, before focusing on the last three Death Eaters.

An eerie silence fell in the Hall of Prophecies as Harry gazed upon the final three, the mist from the smashed prophecies fading away. One of them was leaning heavily on one leg, suggesting that he had been hit in the leg with a stray spell. Bellatrix and Malfoy, however, looked fully capable of fighting.

Harry started off the duel. He fired a wandless Stunner at the wounded Death Eater, and immediately shielded himself from attacks from the other two. The wounded Death Eater cast a Protego, but Harry's Stunner easily smashed through it and into his chest, sending him flying a good ten feet, before slamming painfully into the ground.

Another blast of magic once more caught Malfoy and Bellatrix off guard, and as they flew through the air, Malfoy was defenseless against the Stunner that slammed into his back, but Bellatrix managed to conjure a shield strong enough to deflect the one heading for her. She landed hard on her back, but quickly sprung up. Instead of continuing the fight, as Harry believed she would, she instead took off running. No doubt, she had realized that Harry was too powerful for him to defeat on his own. It gave Harry a great feeling of pride, knowing that he'd forced one of the most dangerous witches in the world to flee. That, however, didn't mean he was going to allow her to do so.

Harry took off, following her. The hem of Bellatrix's robes whipped out of sight as she exited the Hall of Prophecies, into that weird time room. Harry followed. A witch straight out of Azkaban was no match for a physically fit Quidditch player, so when they reached the large, circular room, Harry could clearly see her. He was close enough that when Bellatrix tried to slam the door to the exit shut behind her, he managed to catch it before it fully closed, pushing it open and keeping up the chase down the torch-lit corridor.

Bellatrix managed to enter the lift he'd taken down, and slammed the grilles shut, the lift rising out of view. Hurriedly, Harry slammed his fist onto the button to call a second lift. His knee was throbbing painfully as the lift jangled and banged lower and lower. The grilles slid open, and Harry dashed inside, no hammering the button marked Atrium. The grilles slid shut, and the lift rose.

He forced his way out of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Bellatrix was almost at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as he sprinted toward her, and aimed a spell at him. Harry easily dodged the sloppily thrown spell and swung his staff.

Bellatrix's left leg froze in the air as if Harry had wrapped an invisible chain around it, and the momentum from her sprint caused her to fall and slam face-first into the wooden floor.

She gave off an outraged shriek as she whipped around and raised her wand, but Harry was already holding his hand out.

"Expelliarmus!"

Bellatrix's wand was ripped from her hands and flew into Harry's waiting palm. Throwing it to the ground, he took a couple of deep breaths as he reached into his jacket pocket, taking out the dusty prophecy.

"All that for this little thing?" he asked, taking another deep breath as he slowly approached the downed Death Eater. "You know, Voldemort is not happy with you, ickle Bella."

Harry's horrible, baby-like voice seemed to irk Bella. Obviously, she wasn't used to people using it on her.

"And now," Harry said as he pointed his staff at Bella, "say good-night."

"Good night, Potter."

Harry's eyes widened at the high, cold voice coming from behind him. So, the snake had come out of its hole at last... Bellatrix's eyes were wide in both excitement and fear.

"M-Master!"

"Be quiet, Bella. I have something to do. Avada Kedavra!"

Harry spun around, and he was sure he surprised everyone when he jabbed his staff straight at the bolt of green light heading for him. The Killing Curse impacted with the orb on top of the staff, and the coal started glowing green. Hopefully before Voldemort had a chance to react, Harry swung his staff, and sent the curse flying right back at him. Voldemort, however, lazily leaned to the side, dodging the curse, which smashed into a nearby desk, setting it on fire. He had seemed calm, but Harry saw the surprise in his slitted, scarlet eyes.

"So, you have gathered a wider arsenal of spells then, Potter?" Voldemort asked softly, a cruel smirk spreading on his face. "No Disarming Charm this time?"

"Nope," Harry said, shaking his head. He surprised himself with his calm. His hands were trembling, but with this strange calm he had, he did not know if it was from fear, or excitement. He felt himself grin. "Do you like it? I invented it myself. For now, I'm going with the name Return-To-Sender. I wanted something Latin, but I never really studied it, so I wouldn't know a proper name for it."

His calm seemed to irritate Voldemort, as the snake-like man didn't respond. Instead, he raised his wand, so quickly that Harry hardly even noticed it, and fired another Killing Curse at Harry, who dodged, pocketing the prophecy again. He was going to need both hands for this.

Sensing Bellatrix moving behind him, Harry pointed his finger over his shoulder at the same time as he jabbed his staff toward Voldemort, sending a blast of magic at him. Heavy chains materialized out of thin air, wrapping themselves around Bellatrix's arms and legs, just as Voldemort conjured a shining silver shield out of thin air, blocking the intense burst of magic.

Harry didn't allow him to attack, however, and raised his staff and hand into the air, concentrating. A spinning, wicked-looking dagger materialized above him, then another, and another, and another, until around thirty daggers were floating over his head. Voldemort looked pleasantly surprised as Harry sent them all soaring toward him all at once. He, however, flicked his wand, vanishing the daggers, which disappeared in small puffs of smoke.

He sent a wicked-looking curse at Harry, which was a sickly purple color. Harry conjured a shield with his staff, which blocked the curse, then held his hand in front of his mouth, and blew into his palm.

A fire ignited in his palm and rose into the air, growing thicker and thicker, taking the form of the head of an Hungarian Horntail. It gave off a roar as it charged at Voldemort, who made a slashing movement with his wand, cutting the head off the fire dragon, which caused it to fade away much too quickly for Harry's liking.

"You're not skilled enough to conjure powerful Fiendfyre, Potter!" Voldemort taunted, raising his wand.

Harry saw Voldemort gathering magic in front of him, but then blinked when he noticed something. The fireplaces in the Atrium had all lit up, and the place was starting to fill up with people. Distracted by this, Harry was unprepared for the spell Voldemort sent at him, which smashed painfully into his whole body, sending him flying back as pain went through his entire body. Every nerve felt like they were on fire. It wasn't on the level of a Cruciatus Curse, but it still hurt!

Flipping in the air, Harry landed unsteadily on his feet, and threw up a shield to block another sickly purple curse from Voldemort. Harry flicked his staff upward, and he took great pleasure in the surprise on Voldemort's face as he was sent flying straight up into the air. Voldemort, however, disappeared in mid-air, and Harry had a millisecond to spin around and fire another blast of magic at Voldemort, who he had sensed was right behind him, just as Voldemort fired another Killing Curse.

The two spells clashed, and much like the previous year, formed a chain of golden light between them. This time, it was different though. It didn't have the same feel to it. It was just a power struggle, pure and simple. Harry felt the hand clutching his staff burning as the smell of burned flesh hit his nostrils. He couldn't let up, however, and focused only on pushing Voldemort back. Voldemort looked to be struggling just as much as Harry. Unlike Harry, however, he couldn't use two hands. Harry raised his free hand and pointed at Voldemort.

"STUPEFY!"

The jet of red light fired from Harry's hand made Voldemort's eyes widen, and he made a violent slashing move with his wand. The link between their wands intercepted the Stunner, and that was enough to overpower it. The link exploded with such force that it pushed both duelers back and caused the wooden floor between them to shatter. Only now did Voldemort seem to realize that a crowd of Ministry worker were watching them.

"Accio Prophecy!" he shouted, and Harry felt the glass ball fly out of his pocket, soaring toward Voldemort, whose eyes were glinting. Harry made an underhand swing with his staff, knocking the prophecy straight up into the air. All eyes were on the glass ball as it reached the peak of its throw, then fell.

It smashed into the ground, accompanied by a cry of outrage from Voldemort. However, all went silent as a ghostly figure rose from the shards, a figure with hugely magnified eyes rising into the air.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and the two must face each other on the battlefield... and the winner shall be decided by the one who first knows the Oracle... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches..."_

The figure slowly faded away, and there was silence, as Harry and Voldemort stared as the glass shards. Then, Voldemort disappeared, reappeared beside Bellatrix, grabbed her, and disappeared again.

Harry, breathing a sigh of relief, turned around to face the crowd, all of whom were staring at him in shock. Among the crowd was Dumbledore, who was staring at him with a mixture of pride, relief, and worry.

"He was there!" a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail shouted, pointing at the spot where Voldemort had stood. "It was You-Know-Who, Mr. Fudge! I swear, it was You-Know-Who!"

"I-I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!" Fudge gibbered, wearing pajamas under his pinstriped cloak and gasping as though he had just run miles. "Merlin's beard... He... Potter... Here! In the Ministry of Magic! Duel..." He seemed incapable of speaking properly as he stared at Harry in shock.

Dumbledore strode forward, toward Harry, who only just now felt that part of his face was wet. Reaching up, he felt a wound on his left cheek, going vertically. It was bleeding.

"Dumbledore!" Fudge gasped. "You...! Here...! I-I..."

He looked wildly around at the Aurors he had brought with him, and it could not have been clearer that he was in half a mind to cry, "Seize him!"

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently, and Harry nodded, only just now noticing how out of breath he was. He was still gripping his staff tightly, and found that he couldn't let go. Dumbledore sniffed the air once, then looked down at Harry's hand, and gently pried his hand off his staff.

Harry hissed softly as he painfully let go. His hand was a nasty red, and there were pieces of burned skin sticking to the staff.

"I am very proud of you, Harry," Dumbledore said, wrapping an arm around Harry. Obviously, he had predicted that Harry's knees would give out, which they did.

"Department of Mysteries..." Harry muttered as he panted. "Malfoy, and others... I stunned whoever I could... Accidentally killed Dolohov... Check it out..."

"You need rest, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly. "There now, just close your eyes and rest. Leave everything to me."

"Thank you..." Harry mumbled gratefully as he closed his eyes, feeling the darkness claiming him.

–

When Harry awoke, he found himself in a place that he had to admit that he missed, the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. Sitting in a chair next to the comfortable bed he was in was Dumbledore, staring at him.

"Ah, so you are awake, Harry," he said pleasantly, his eyes twinkling.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry rasped, his throat dry. Dumbledore grabbed a glass of water on Harry's bedside table and held it out to him. Gratefully, Harry took it and greedily gulped it down. He felt exhausted.

"Actually, it is late evening," Dumbledore commented with a smile. He reached toward the bedside table again and grabbed a newspaper, handing it to Harry. "You made front page, my boy."

Harry set the glass down and grabbed his glasses, putting them on before taking the copy of the Prophet.

_**Harry Potter – The Chosen One?**_

_**The Boy-Who-Lived battles You-Know-Who to a standstill!**_

"I'm not the Boy-Who-Lies anymore?" Harry asked in amusement.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said with a nod. "The Ministry has finally recognized Voldemort's return, and Dolores Umbridge has been fired from this school. I have been reinstated as headmaster, and you are now seen as the hope of the wizarding world." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as a proud smile spread on his face. "I want you to know how very proud I am of you, Harry. You brought nine Death Eaters to justice, and managed to duel Voldemort without running or failing. You faced him like an equal and came out victorious. That is a feat only you have managed."

Harry felt his eyes widen at that as he looked at Dumbledore.

"But, sir, haven't you also done that?"

"No, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Although I am sure that I would come out victorious, I am equally sure that Voldemort believes so as well. Therefore, we have not yet faced each other in a duel."

"Because you're the only one he's ever feared, sir," Harry said with a grin. The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes intensified.

"I think you will find, my boy, that I am no longer the only one."

Harry wasn't so sure about that. Voldemort would probably only brush this duel off as luck on Harry's part. Then, he blinked.

"Hey, wait... What am I doing in the Hospital Wing?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, and immediately, his eyes were filled with mirth. "It seems that Dolores, in her joy to see you finally away from this school, had postponed filing the paperwork for your expulsion until today. However, with the events of last night, and Cornelius' sudden urge to make things up to you, you have been forgiven for everything, and are welcome back to Hogwarts."

Harry slowly nodded. "Yes, Fudge is..." he trailed off. Dumbledore stared at him expectantly.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Well, I can think of a lot of words to define Fudge, but none of them are suitable to be uttered in front of a figure of authority, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled merrily.

"Well now, I suppose a few rewards are in order," he said happily and hummed in thought. "You are already going to receive an Order of Merlin, First Class, by the Ministry, so I believe I shall give you yet another Award for Services to the School, for your valiant protection of Professor McGonagall and Hagrid, and three hundred points shall be rewarded to Gryffindor, naturally."

Harry grinned widely as he received a wink from Dumbledore, who stood up.

"Well, I must be off. I promised Madam Pomfrey that I would be informing her when you woke up. Let us not deprive her any longer of the chance to mother you."

"And shove vile-tasting potions down my throat, sir," Harry said with a grin as Dumbledore chuckled, walking off. Harry looked back to the Prophet and read the front page article.

_In a stunning turn of events on Friday morning, around three o'cl-_

_ock, Ministry workers arrived at the Ministry of Magic, answering_

_alarms that had sounded, to find Harry Potter dueling He-Who-M-_

_ust-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter, who had all along claimed that_

_he was back, put up a valiant fight, and battled the Dark Lord to_

_a standstill, displaying stunning magical skills and power. Harry_

_Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and He-Who-Must-Be-Named show-_

_ed the Ministry workers and the Minister of Magic a duel the lik-_

_es of which have not been seen since the duel between Albus D-_

_umbledore and the Dark Lord Grindelwald. The duel was ended_

_prematurely as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attempted to steal_

_a prophecy, which the Boy-Who-Lived had taken from its shelf in_

_the Hall of Prophecy that night, pertaining to him and He-Who-_

_Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry stopped him from stealing it, but in-_

_the process the prophecy got smashed. Everyone in the Ministry_

_Atrium at that time heard the full contents of the prophecy. It cl-_

_aimed that Harry Potter was the only person in the world with the_

_power to vanquish He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once and for all._

_A lone voice of truth, who was perceived as unbalanced, who was_

_forced to bear ridicule and slander, yet never wavered in his sto-_

_ry, was proven right that morning, and the Ministry of Magic has_

_decided to award him with an Order of Merlin, First Class, for his_

_brave actions, a true Gryffindor through and through. He..._

Harry grunted and put away the paper. He couldn't stand reading anymore... Yeah, he was forced to bear ridicule and slander, but they didn't exactly admit that they were responsible for most of it.

"Awake, are we?"

Harry looked toward Madam Pomfrey's office, to see her standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Harry sternly. Harry gave a gentle smile.

"Alright, let's get this over with, shall we? You give me some kind of pain-killing potion or something, I complain, you claim that I need to stay in bed for at least a week, and as soon as you leave me, I sneak out of here."

The corners of Madam Pomfrey's mouth twitched for a moment. Then, she sighed and got to work.

"I think you will be pleased to know that the book you gave me was excellent. Using some long forgotten methods, I have managed to reform your knee. The wand shards are still there, but you will find that the pain will be nigh nonexistent."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank you."

–

As Harry had predicted, he had escaped the Hospital Wing as soon as Madam Pomfrey left him, and was now walking through the castle, stretching lazily. He wanted to go see Hagrid, who he had been told was back at Hogwarts. He needed to apologize to the gentle giant for sending an ugly toad through his roof.

Harry had just descended the last marble step into the entrance hall when Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from a door on the right that Harry knew led down to the Slytherin common room. Harry stopped dead, and so did Malfoy and the others. For a few moments, the only sounds were the shouts, laughter and splashes drifting into the hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Malfoy glanced around. Harry knew he was checking for signs of teachers. Then, he looked back at Harry and said in a low voice, "You're dead, Potter."

Harry raised his eyebrows curiously. Then, he snorted, before bursting into laughter. He laughed so hard that his eyes started watering, and his ribs ached.

When the laughter died down, Harry looked at the angry Malfoy again, wiping his eyes with a smile on his face. Then, all traces of amusement disappeared from his face, and his hand shot out. He was holding his hand in a gun shape, with his index finger and thumb extended, the index pointing right between Malfoy's eyes. A red glow was building up on his fingertip as he gazed coldly into Malfoy's surprised, gray eyes.

"Do you think I'm afraid of you, Malfoy, when I single-handedly battled and defeated eleven Death Eaters for appetizers, then dueled Voldemort himself? What's wrong?" he asked, for Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. "He's your dad's mate, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?"

"You think you're such a big man, Potter..." Malfoy muttered, slowly trying to move his head away from the intimidating index finger, but to no luck. Harry's finger stayed pointed at him. "You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my father in prison-"

"I just did," Harry interrupted with a grin.

"The dementors have left Azkaban," Malfoy said quietly. "Dad and the others'll be out in no time..."

"Yeah, I expect they will be. But at least everyone now knows what scumbags they are. And when they are broken out, I will always be here to put them back in prison. And who knows, maybe one day I'll get tired, and put them down for good?"

Malfoy's hand flew toward his wand, and Harry got ready to give him a face full of Stunner when-

"Potter!"

The voice rang across the entrance hall. Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape asked coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them.

"Well, I was planning on Stunning Malfoy, before hanging him upside down from the Astronomy Tower starkers, sir," Harry said calmly, still staring straight into Malfoy's eyes.

"Lower your hand at once," Snape said curtly, staring at Harry. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"What's going on here?"

McGonagall had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle. She was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked well.

"Professor McGonagall!" Snape said, striding forward. "Out of St. Mungo's, I see!"

"Yes, Professor Snape," McGonagall said, shrugging off her traveling cloak, "I'm quite as good as new. You two, Crabbe, Goyle."

She beckoned them forward imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.

"Here," McGonagall said, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's, "take these up to my office for me."

They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.

"Now, I do believe I asked what is going on?" McGonagall said, raising her stern eyebrow as she looked over Harry and Malfoy.

"It's great to see you back, Professor," Harry said, still not taking his eyes off Malfoy, nor lowering his hand. "It's not really Hogwarts without you. As for what is going on, I'm merely informing Malfoy here of his place. He threatened me, and I felt compelled to show him that compared to Voldemort, he is but a mere ant."

"Lower your hand, Potter," McGonagall said sternly, and Harry complied. "Well now, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this."

Harry did not need telling twice. He took his eyes off Malfoy and nodded to McGonagall once, before walking out the doors.

The hot sun hit him with a blast as he walked across the lawns toward Hagrid's cabin. Students lying around on the grass sunbathing, talking, reading the Daily Prophet, and eating sweets looked up at him as he passed. Some called out to him, or else waved, clearly eager to show that they, like the Prophet, had decided he was something of a hero. Harry said nothing to any of them.

He thought at first when he knocked on Hagrid's cabin that he was out, but then Fang came charging around the corner and almost bowled him over with the enthusiasm of his welcome. Hagrid, it transpired, was picking runner beans in his back garden.

"All righ', Harry!" he said, beaming, when Harry approached the fence. "Come in, come in, we'll have a cup of dandelion juice..."

Harry nodded and headed into the cabin with Hagrid and Fang, settling down at Hagrid's wooden table with a glass apiece of iced juice. "You feelin' all righ', are yeh?"

"Of course," Harry said, blinking in confusion. "What's with the concerned look, Hagrid?"

"Well, yeh've got that new scar an' all, and the hair. One wonders, yeh know?"

Still blinking confusedly, Harry wondered what he meant by 'the hair,' and walked over to Hagrid's cracked old mirror, leaned against the foot of Hagrid's bed. His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw.

His hair seemed to have gotten streaks of silver in it here and there. Although he had to admit that he looked darn good with silver highlights in his hair, he wondered when on earth he had gotten said highlights... He also noticed that the wound on his cheek had left a scar, which was still slightly pink from healing, but would soon turn white, making it very noticeable when he got a tan.

"Well, I'll be..." Shaking his head in wonder, Harry walked back to the table and sat down, sipping his juice. "Anyway, I'm fine, Hagrid. And how are you? Where've you been when you haven't been in Avalon?"

"Bin hidin' out in the mountains," Hagrid said. "Up in a cave, like Sirius did 'fore he went ter Grimmauld."

"Why didn't you just stay in Avalon?"

"I wanted ter stay close ter Grawp."

"Speaking of Grawp, you look much better," Harry said, gesturing for Hagrid's face, which was no longer bruised as it once had been when Hagrid came back.

"Wha?" Hagrid said, raising a massive hand and feeling his face. "Oh yeah. Well, Grawpy's loads better behaved now, loads. Seemed right pleased ter see me when I got back, ter tell yeh the truth. He's a good lad, really... I've bin thinkin' abou' tryin' ter find him a lady friend, actually..."

Harry couldn't help but snort in amusement. "Well, I wish you luck with that."

"Harry!"

The door to Hagrid's cabin was slammed open, and there stood Hermione, panting as if she had run around the entire castle looking for him. As soon as her eyes landed on him, Harry found himself enveloped in a tight hug, which felt almost powerful enough to break his ribs.

"H-Hermione!" Harry gasped and looked to Hagrid for help. What he got was an amused look from the half-giant.

"Harry! Are you alright? I've been so worried... The Prophet... Voldemort... Duel... Prophecy..."

Hermione was rambling incoherently as he started patting Harry here and there, as though making sure he was really standing there in one piece.

"Hermione-! Hermione, I-! HERMIONE!"

Finally going silent, Hermione froze and looked at Harry. Her eyes were still wide with excitement and worry.

"Hermione, I'm fine," Harry assured his best friend with a soft smile. "But thank you for worrying. It means a lot to me." He looked to Hagrid, grinning. "I'm taking a walk, Hagrid."

"All righ', Harry," Hagrid said with a smile and a nod. "Feel free ter stop by for a cuppa if yeh've got a mo', okay?"

"You got it, Hagrid," Harry said as he and Hermione left Hagrid's cabin, walking across the lawn in the sunlight.

Once again, people called out to him as he passed with Hermione, but Harry just nodded in greeting, and didn't come over to them. They walked a short way around the lake, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passersby behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water.

"What was it like?" Hermione asked, peering at Harry curiously. He noticed that she was aching to ask about his new highlights, judging by how she kept glancing up at them. "Dueling him, I mean."

"I'm not really sure," Harry said as he held out his hand. A flat rock on the ground floated into the air, then shot off, skipping a good thirteen times on the still, mirror-like surface of the lake. "I have never been so scared in my entire life, but at the same time... it was exciting."

"Exciting?" Hermione repeated incredulously.

"I can't really explain it, but... Well, that's the only thing I can say. It was just as exciting as it was frightening. I released so much power that I somehow did this..." Harry said as he gestured for his hair. Then, he added, "I think that was why I got this hair, anyway..."

–

Harry chose not to go to the end-of-term feast, and instead chose to stay away from people. He didn't need people badgering him, asking about his duel with Voldemort. Briefly, after the fourth first year had excitedly asked him about it, Harry wondered if Dumbledore had to endure the same badgering when he defeated Grindelwald.

Therefore, Harry had stayed hidden, until the day of the journey home. About two hours before the Hogwarts Express was leaving the Hogsmeade station, Harry had been summoned to the Great Hall, where he found it filled with students and reporters. Bright camera flashes went off everywhere the second he stepped into the Hall.

Up at the staff table, he could see the teachers, Dumbledore, and Fudge waiting. Fudge was waving him over, a bright, fatherly smile on his face. Hypocrite, Harry thought as he slowly made his way through the crowd, which parted to let him move to the staff table.

As he stepped up in front of Fudge and Dumbledore, he caught Dumbledore's twinkling eyes as the headmaster motioned for Fudge, who took a step toward him.

"Mr. Potter!" Fudge said, smiling still. "Because of your swift actions, extreme skill and power in your duel with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and your arrest of nine Death Eaters, the Ministry is pleased to award you with this!"

He held out an square ivory box, roughly eight inches wide, and Harry took it, opening it with a raised eyebrow.

"The Order of Merlin, First Class!" Fudge announced as Harry saw a shiny golden shield in the box, which had words written on it in bold letters.

_**ORDER OF MERLIN**_

_**FIRST CLASS**_

_**For Services to the Ministry**_

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should accept it. After all, the Ministry had not exactly been friendly with him this year. Fudge seemed to realize what he was thinking, and he leaned forward slightly, his smile stiffening.

"Please accept it, Harry, and what do you say we let bygones be bygones, huh?"

Harry thought about it. Then, he nodded, and closed the box, shaking Fudge's hand. Fudge's smile widened, something Harry didn't think possible, as cameras started flashing again.

"Say, have you called off the search for Sirius Black yet?" Harry asked loudly. Immediately, silence fell in the Hall, and Fudge stiffened, as Harry raised an eyebrow. Every single one of the reporters leaned closer, determined not to miss a thing.

"Pardon me, Mr. Potter?" a young witch at the front said, raising her hand. "What, exactly, did you mean by that?"

"Harry-" Fudge started, but Harry held up a hand as he turned to the reporter.

Grunting, Harry sat down on the floor, stretching. "I'm sorry, could you all sit down? My knee is still hurting a little, and it'll be bothersome to stand, because this is going to take a while. Please?"

One by one, the reporters and students slowly sat down, all of them appearing very confused. Behind him, Harry heard a noise, and looked back to see that Dumbledore had sat down on the floor as well, looking thoroughly amused. The teachers and Fudge, however, remained standing. Harry looked back to the crowd, taking a deep breath.

"I never got to say good-bye to my parents," he spoke softly. "There's questions I would have asked them. You know, gotten to know my real parents, instead of forming an image of them in my mind. I hardly even remember them." Harry chuckled softly as he stared down at his hands. "What I do remember is how my father held my hands as he helped me up on my first toy broom, and how my mother used to sing me a lullaby. Just thinking about it makes me feel content, but for the life of me, I can't remember the tune nor the lyrics...

"I grew up in a bad place, always yelled at, and I never felt like I was part of the family. I never felt that real feeling of a family, until the summer before my second year at Hogwarts, when I spent some time in the Weasley household. It was, truly, amazing. It was a feeling unlike any other. I would have traded all the gold in my vault to have experienced that feeling while growing up.

"Because of a despicable act of betrayal, I was robbed of that opportunity, and my parents were murdered..." Harry took another deep breath as he paused, and noticed that the crowd was hanging onto his every word. "You have all been told it was Sirius Black who betrayed my parents, who got them murdered. I believed that, too, during my third year at Hogwarts. However, near the end of that year, I met Sirius Black. This, you know. However, what you don't know is something that the Minister here swept under the rug. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and I met Sirius, and he told us what really happened that night when my parents were murdered. Peter Pettigrew, the man who believed to have been murdered shortly after my parents, was the real traitor."

Gasps went through the crowd, and a middle-aged man in the back raised his hand.

"Mr. Potter, that is a bold claim. How do you know this?"

"Because I saw him that night. For twelve years, he had been in hiding. He was an unregistered Animagus, see. His form was that of a rat, a rat that found itself ending up in the possession of the Weasley family. He was given the name Scabbers, and he waited. Eventually, he was given to Ronald Weasley, and he kept waiting, waiting for the slightest whisper of Lord Voldemort's return." Harry stopped here and sigh as gasps and shudders went through the crowd.

"Harry, I really think-" Fudge started, but Harry held up a hand to stop him.

"Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, had been disgraced among the Death Eaters," Harry continued. "But he was staying in the Gryffindor Tower, near me at all times, and if Voldemort had returned, he would have given him me. This would have put him back in favor. Remus Lupin and Sirius managed to get him to revert back to human form that night, and he spilled the beans. He admitted to betraying my parents!"

The crowd was still hanging onto his every word, and he could feel Fudge glaring at him, along with Snape. He decided to actually be kind to Snape, for once.

"However, due to unforeseen interferences, Pettigrew managed to escape, when the full moon came out and Lupin, who in his eagerness to capture Pettigrew had forgotten to drink his Wolfsbane Potion, transformed. Sirius saved us that night. He fought the werewolf, and sent it off into the forest. However, he was wounded, and as I went to help him, the dementors swarmed us. I fought as hard as I could, and managed to conjure a Patronus strong enough to beat them back, before I lost consciousness.

"When I awoke, I heard the Minister talking about how Sirius Black was about to be Kissed by a dementor. I, naturally, told him that Pettigrew was alive, that we had seen him, that Sirius was innocent, but he waved us off. He believed us to have been Confounded, and that we were delusional. Because of him, Pettigrew was able to sneak off to Albania, where he found the weakened Voldemort. He helped him create an infant-like body, which allowed him the use of a wand.

"Pettigrew also ran into Bertha Jorkins and kidnapped her, bringing her to Voldemort, who tortured her into insanity before killing her." Here, Harry paused, and allowed the reporters who were furiously scribbling on parchment to catch up with his story. When the scribbling had finally stopped, Harry continued. "Because of this, Voldemort was given information about the Triwizard Tournament, and he was given information regarding the whereabouts of one of his most loyal Death Eaters, the now Kissed Barty Crouch Jr.! Well, you all know how the Triwizard Tournament went. When Cedric and I grabbed the cup, however, we were transported to a graveyard, where none other than Peter Pettigrew was waiting.

"Pettigrew helped his master back to power that night. Pettigrew is the reason this war has started. Pettigrew is the reason why I grew up without parents or a godfather to take care of me, to give me the love of a family. And Pettigrew, ladies and gentlemen, is very much alive. Sirius Black is an innocent man! I have met him several times since his escape, and he has never tried to harm me. He has about as much resentment toward Voldemort as I do, if not more! My biggest wish of today is that now that the Ministry knows that I was telling the truth about Voldemort, then maybe I was telling the truth about Sirius as well."

Harry stood up and gave a bow at the waist.

"Thank you all for listening. It has been great talking to you."

Immediately, the reporters opened their mouths, and so many questions were thrown at him at once that Harry could not make sense of it all.

–

_**HOGWARTS STUDENTS TESTIFY! PETTIGREW IS ALIVE?**_

_**Students testify that Black is innocent, and that Pettigrew never died!**_

"How's that?" Harry asked with a satisfied grin as he held out the Prophet to Sirius the next day, sitting in the dining hall of Avalon with the Weasley family, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Lupin, and Sirius.

"Hey, this was beautiful," Sirius said with an approving nod as he read the article featured on the front page. "_...Potter told us all his story, a story that tugged at the heartstrings of even the most cold-hearted of us..._ What did you say, exactly?"

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that. I told them everything I remembered about my parents, about how I wanted a real family, how Wormtail robbed me of that, and blah, blah, blah."

"I'm betting it was that blah, blah, blah that really got to them," Lupin commented with a joking smile, making everyone laugh, except for Mad-Eye, who looked as grumpy as ever.

"So, what will happen now, then?" Tonks asked curiously as she snatched the newspaper out of Sirius's hands to read it for herself.

"Now, the Ministry will conduct a full investigation," Harry said as he leaned back. "And they'll actually investigate, for once."

"The Ministry really doesn't want to turn Harry away from them. They suspect that he might be a tad upset with them," Sirius unnecessarily informed everyone.

Harry didn't return to Privet Drive at all that summer. Instead, he stayed in Avalon with Sirius, even though Mrs. Weasley offered to let him stay in the Burrow Harry, however, wanted to live with his godfather, as he should have done at the end of his third year.

Harry had to admit, he preferred it when Voldemort was in hiding. Now, every day, the Prophet featured headlines showing death after death after death. People were dying left and right, and the Ministry was powerless to stop it.

The holiday was not as fun as Harry would have thought it would be. With the worries about Voldemort, coupled with the extremely tough training he put himself through, Harry had no time to relax or just have fun. Although he had to admit that the dueling sessions with Sirius and Lupin were hilarious.

Sirius usually found some way to add humor to the otherwise serious duels. Once, he vanished Lupin's belt, 'causing his pants to drop. This had captured Harry's attention long enough for Sirius to hit him with an Incarcerus. Although Sirius and Lupin won the duel, Lupin's humiliation lingered, as Sirius and Harry couldn't stop talking about it the entire day.

On July twelfth, Harry sat in the War Room with his feet up on the table as he read the front page article of the Prophet.

_**SCRIMGEOUR SUCCEEDS FUDGE!**_

Most of the front page was taken up with a large black-and-white picture of a man with a lion-like mane of this hair and a rather ravaged face. The man in the picture was waving at the ceiling.

_Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical_

_Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appoint-_

_ment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though_

_rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated_

_Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office..._

Harry shook his head as he folded the newspaper and put it down. Then, he picked up today's Prophet and looked at the front page article.

_**MINISTRY DECLARES BLACK INNOCENT!**_

This headline really caught Harry's interest, and he grinned as he read the article.

_Today, the Minister of Magic told us all of the stunning discoveries they had made_

_in regards to Sirius Black. It was discovered that Black never got a trial, and that_

_then-Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Bartemius Crouch never granted him a one,_

_and simply shipped him off to Azkaban. In light of this, along with the testimony_

_of not just Harry Potter, but also three other children, the Ministry has declared that_

_Black, who has been around Potter throughout the years since he escaped Azkaban,_

_could not possibly have done the crimes he was convicted for. The Minister has call-_

_ed off the search for Black, and has instead started a search for Peter Pettigrew, the_

_real murderer of the twelve Muggles Black was convicted for._

_Now, Scrimgeour asks that Black come to the Ministry, so that he can be compen-_

_sated for his unjust imprisonment, and he has offered a reward in return for tell-_

_ing them how he escaped. Black..._

"Great!" Harry said to himself with a grin. Both of the articles were because of Harry, he noticed. Fudge was sacked because of Harry's story to the reporters, and Fudge's blatant denial regarding Voldemort's return, the rift between Scrimgeour and Dumbledore appeared because of Scrimgeour's insistence on seeing Harry, and Sirius was honestly freed because the Ministry did not want to get on the Chosen One's bad side.

"Enjoying the headlines, Harry?"

Harry looked toward the doorway, to see Dumbledore standing there, his eyes in full twinkle and a mirthful smile on his face.

"Oh, yes," Harry said with a nod. "They are very interesting, sir, much better read than those last year."

Dumbledore chuckled as he walked up to the War Room table. He looked to Harry, still mirthful.

"Tell me, Harry, how would you like to come with me on an errand?"

Harry froze at that and looked up at Dumbledore. What was his game?

"You don't need me because you could use an extra wizard for security," Harry guessed as he hummed. "That hand looks bad, but that's not it..." Dumbledore blinked, then looked down at his right hand, to see that it was poking out of his long sleeve. It was black, and looked shriveled, as if all the blood had been sucked out of it. "Then... you seek to use my status, sir?" Harry asked shrewdly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You are a bright wizard, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling brightly. "I never expected to be able to hide the purpose for my request from you. Yes, I do seek to take advantage of your status as the Chosen One to wet the appetite of a potential teacher I have been searching for. After all, we are missing one at the moment."

"Alright, sir, I'll help you."

"Excellent!"

–

With a crack of Apparition, Harry and Dumbledore found themselves standing in what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked kindly. "The sensation takes some getting used to."

"Actually, sir," Harry said, smiling, "I have been Apparating since the end of my fourth year."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Then, he smiled and drew his traveling cloak a little more tightly around his neck.

"This way, Harry."

He set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, it was almost midnight.

"So, tell me, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Your scar... has it been hurting at all?"

"No, sir," Harry said, shaking his head. "My Occlumency is as strong as ever."

"Very good," Dumbledore said, nodding.

They turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore. "Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Are you..." Harry paused. "Are you disappointed in me?"

"For killing Dolohov?" Dumbledore guessed correctly, which made Harry wonder how Dumbledore seemed to know everything. Instead of asking, however, he settled for nodding. "No, I am not disappointed in you, Harry. I know that Dolohov's death was an accident and that if you had a choice you would have simply Stunned him. Left here, Harry."

Harry, happy to hear that Dumbledore didn't blame him for Dolohov's death, followed him up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. An odd chill was in the air, but Harry performed the Warming Charm, which had become something of a favorite of his on cold days, ridding himself of the cold feeling.

They turned left again, they moved up a steep side street.

"It's too bad about Madam Bones," Harry said.

"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly. "A terrible loss. She was a great witch. Up here, I think- Ouch!"

He had pointed with his injured hand.

"Professor, are you going to tell me what happened to your hand?"

"I have no time to explain now," Dumbledore said. "It is a thrilling tale, I wish to do it justice."

"Oh, great..." Harry muttered. Dumbledore glanced at him.

"Why the long face?"

"Well, sir, the last time you were so quick to avoid talking about something I asked you about, you waited four years to tell me, and that was only after I had found out for myself," Harry said cheekily.

Dumbledore chuckled quietly. Then, however, he stopped and turned to Harry.

"Harry... after your battle with Voldemort and the Death Eaters in the Ministry, I came to a realization," Dumbledore said seriously. The twinkle in his eye was gone, and no smile was seen on his face. "I cared too much for you, Harry."

Harry blinked. "Pardon?"

"I cared for you. During your time in Hogwarts, you have grown into a powerful wizard. You are strong, brave, charismatic, and, if what Sirius has told me of your Dragon Order is correct, a remarkable leader. While I have seen these changes in you, subconsciously I have only been seeing that timid little boy from the cupboard. I did not want to burden you with these responsibilities. I wished for you to be able to live a normal life, like any other boy."

"Pardon my language, sir, but all hopes of me ever living a normal life ended up in the shitter the second Voldemort chose me."

"A fact that I am very well aware of," Dumbledore nodded. "However, the battle in the Ministry has opened my eyes. You are ready, Harry. Ready for this war, a war where every witch and wizard are looking to you to lead them. It is my intention to allow you to do that. From now on, I will hide nothing more from you. I promise you this."

Harry gaped. Dumbledore was going to be completely honest with him from now on? He never would have expected this. Slowly, Harry nodded.

"I am grateful, sir."

"I wish to discuss this further when we return to Avalon. For now, however, we are here."

They were nearing a small, neat stone house set in its own garden. As they reached the front gate, Dumbledore stopped dead.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

"Sir," he said after sending out a pulse of magic. "Someone is in the house."

"It certainly seems that way," Dumbledore said as he glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted.

"Be ready for anything, Harry, and follow me," he said quietly.

He opened the gated and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, Harry with his staff in his hand, transformed back from the walking stick, at his heels, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and at the ready.

"Lumos."

Dumbledore's wand tip ignited, casting its light up a narrow hallway. To the left, another door stood open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the sitting room with Harry right behind him.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little father away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier glittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides. Fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper.

"Not pretty, is it?" Dumbledore asked heavily as he noticed Harry staring at the blood. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Dumbledore moved carefully into the middle of the room, scrutinizing the wreckage at his feet as Harry moved around, doing the same.

Curiously, Harry took a look behind the piano, then the overturned sofa, and finally the overstuffed armchair lying on its side.

"There's no sign of a body, sir," Harry told Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Indeed. Harry, would you do the honors?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said. Then, he swooped, jabbing the top of his staff into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Harry with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to jab me so hard," he said gruffly, clambering to his feet. "It hurt."

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, in a tone of voice that suggested that he was anything but sorry. This guy had made him worry, after all.

The wandlight from Dumbledore's wand sparkled on the man's shiny pate, his prominent eyes, his enormous, silver, walrus-like mustache, and the highly polished buttons on the maroon velvet jacket he was wearing over a pair of lilac silk pajamas. The top of his head barely reached Harry's nose.

"What gave it away?" he grunted to Dumbledore as he staggered to his feet, still rubbing his lower belly. He seemed remarkably unabashed for a man who had just been pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Horace," Dumbledore said, looking amused, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

The wizard clapped a pudgy hand to his vast forehead while Harry snapped his fingers.

"The Dark Mark," they muttered together. Then, after they had shared an astonished look, the wizard said, "Knew there was something... ah well. Wouldn't have had time, anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please," the other said.

They stood back to back, the tall, thin wizard and the short, round one, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.

The furniture flew back to its original places. Ornaments reformed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions, torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves, oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited, a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk, rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" Dumbledore asked loudly over the chiming of the newly unsmashed grandfather clock.

Surprising the wizards, Harry answered, "Dragon's blood." He saw their impressed looks and explained, "One of the drops was against yellow, so it was green. It was easy to tell."

"Yes, dragon," the wizard repeated. "My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable."

He stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on top of a sideboard and held it up to the light, examining the thick liquid within.

"Hm... Bit dusty."

He set the bottle back on the sideboard and sighed. It was then that his gaze fell upon Harry.

"Oho," he said, his large round eyes flying to Harry's forehead and the lightning-shaped scar it bore. Obviously, the staff wasn't enough to convince him of Harry's identity. "_Oho_!"

"This," Dumbledore said, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

Slughorn turned on Dumbledore, his expression shrewd. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's still no, Albus."

He pushed past Harry, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" Dumbledore asked. "For old time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated.

"Alright, then, one drink," he said ungraciously.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him toward a chair not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, which stood right beside the newly burning fire and a brightly glowing lamp. Harry took the seat, transforming his staff back into his walking stick. He had the impression that Dumbledore wanted to keep him as visible as possible. Certainly, when Slughorn, who had been busy with decanters and glasses, turned to face the room again, his eyes fell immediately upon Harry.

"Hmpf," he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes. "Here..." He gave a drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the tray at Harry, and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence. His legs were so short they did not touch the floor.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not so well," Slughorn said at once. "Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism, too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice," Dumbledore said. "You cannot have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," he added sternly, seeming to pull himself back together again, "the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

"You are not yet as old as I am, Horace."

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," Slughorn said bluntly. His pale gooseberry eyes had found Dumbledore's injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

"You are quite right," Dumbledore said serenely, shaking back his sleeve to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers. "I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand..."

He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations, and Harry noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that he had never seen Dumbledore wear before. It was large, rather clumsily made of what looked like gold, and was set with a heavy black stone that had cracked down the middle. Slughorn's eyes lingered for a moment on the ring, too, and Harry saw a tiny frown momentarily crease his wide forehead. Then, he shook his head with a jerk.

"Either way, our time is past us," Slughorn said, waving Dumbledore off. "It's best if we leave everything to people like him," he said, jerking his head toward Harry. "Just look at him, sixteen years old, and more power in his pinky than I have in my entire body."

"Indeed, the young are stronger than the old," Dumbledore agreed pleasantly. "Quicker, too, and not to mention more agile. However, they need to learn from the older and more experienced in order to grow even further, wouldn't you say?"

Slughorn, who had been staring at Harry, snapped out of his thoughts and quickly looked away from him. He just grunted.

"Anyway, Horace, all these precautions against intruders... are they for the Death Eaters' benefit, or mine?" Dumbledore asked.

"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor, broken-down old buffer like me?" Slughorn demanded.

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder," Dumbledore said. "Are you really telling me that they have not come recruiting yet?"

Slughorn eyed Dumbledore balefully for a moment, then muttered, "I haven't given them the chance. I have been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house. The owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands. It's been very pleasant, I'll be sorry to leave. It's quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don't spot you bringing in the piano."

"Ingenious," Dumbledore said. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Hogwarts-"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days..."

"Professor Umbridge attacked Professors Hagrid and McGonagall without a valid motive. Harry here simply exercised his greatest character trait, his nobility, and defended them both," Dumbledore said.

Slughorn cast a quick glance at Harry, then looked away again.

Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly.

"Are you leaving?" Slughorn asked at once, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom," Dumbledore said.

"Oh," Slughorn said, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room. Once the door had closed behind him, there was silence. After a few moments, Slughorn got to his feet, but seemed uncertain what do do with himself. He shot a furtive look at Harry, then crossed to the fire and turned his back to it, warming his wide behind.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," he said abruptly.

Harry merely raised an eyebrow as he looked at Slughorn. Slughorn's watery eyes slid over Harry's scar, this time taking in the rest of his face.

"You looked very like your father."

"But I have my mother's eyes," Harry said with a nod. "I've been told."

"Hmpf. Yes, well... You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother," Slughorn added, in answer to Harry's questioning look. "Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back, too."

"Which was your House?"

"I was Head of Slytherin," Slughorn said. "Oh, now," he went on quickly, wagging a stubby finger at Harry, clearly mistaking his surprised expression for something else, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be a Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, thought. Ever heard of Sirius Black?"

"My godfather, yeah."

"Well, the whole Black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame, he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I'd have liked the set."

He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at an auction. Apparently lost in memories, he gazed at the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot to ensure an even heat on his backside.

"Your mother was Muggle-born, of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good."

"One of my best friends is Muggle-born," Harry said, "and she's the best in our year."

"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" Slughorn asked.

"Not really," Harry said coldly.

Slughorn looked down at him in surprise. "You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" he said. "No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her, too, now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course, another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"

He bounced up and down a little, smiling in a self-satisfied way, and pointed at the many glittering photograph frames on the dresser, each peopled with tiny moving occupants.

"All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes, a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back, you'll see her if you just crane your neck, that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies... People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

This thought seemed to cheer him up enormously.

"How do these people find you?" Harry asked in confusion as he got out of his chair and walked over to the dresser, leaning in to look at the photograph of Gwenog Jones. "I mean, to send you stuff and such."

The smile slid from Slughorn's face as quickly as the blood from the walls had done.

"Well... they don't," he said, looking up at Harry. "I have been out of touch with everybody for a year."

Harry had the impression that the words shocked Slughorn himself, as he looked quite unsettled for a moment.

"Must be annoying," Harry said in a tone that showed a kind of impressed amusement. "To have all these perks, but not able to use them."

Slughorn gave off a grumble as he nodded.

"Still... the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate-"

"You don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," Harry said calmly. "Most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them have ever been killed. Well, unless you count Quirrel, but he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort."

Harry had been sure that Slughorn was one of those wizards who couldn't stand hearing Voldemort's name spoken aloud, and he was not disappointed. Slughorn gave a shudder and a squawk of protest, which Harry ignored.

"I reckon the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster. He's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" Harry went on.

"Well, yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore," he muttered grudgingly. "And I suppose one could argue that as I have not joined the Death Eaters, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can hardly count me a friend... in which case, I might well be safer a little closer to Albust... I cannot pretend that Amelia Bones's death did not shake me... If she, with all her Ministry contacts and protection..."

"Besides, other than Dumbledore protecting the school, there's also me," Harry said, gesturing for himself, "and my Order."

"Your Order?" Slughorn asked, blinking owlishly. Harry nodded and showed off his ring.

"The Dragon Order is a secret organization in the school. We are all students there, so we remain there all year. I am training them all, and at the point we are now, each member could probably duel a average-powered Death Eater to a standstill."

"And who is in this Order?" Slughorn asked. He seemed very interested now, leaning in closer, but not moving from the fire.

"Well, if I divulged the names of the members, we wouldn't exactly be secret, would we?" Harry asked cheekily. "Not even Dumbledore knows who every member is."

Dumbledore reentered the room, as if summoned, and Slughorn jumped as though he had forgotten he was in the house.

"Oh, there you are, Albus," he said. "You've been a very long time. Upset stomach?"

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," Dumbledore said. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough. I think it is time for us to leave."

Casting one last look at the photographs on the dresser, Harry nodded and moved over to Dumbledore's side. Slughorn seemed taken aback.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

"Lost...?"

Slughorn seemed agitated. He twiddled his fat thumbs and fidgeted as he watched Dumbledore fasten his traveling cloak, and Harry halfway zip up his jacket.

"Well, I am sorry you do not want the job, Horace," Dumbledore said, raising his uninjured had in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes... well... very gracious... as I say..."

"Good-bye, then."

"Bye," Harry said with a nod.

They were at the front door when there was a shout from behind them.

"Alright, alright, I'll do it!"

Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes," Slughorn said impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," Slughorn grunted.

As they set off down the garden path, Slughorn's voice floated after them, "I'll want a raise, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore chuckled. The garden gate swung shut behind them, and they set off back down the hill through the dark and the swirling mist.

"Well done, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said proudly. "I thought, what with Professor Slughorn being a Slytherin and all, that stressing the safety was the most important part."

"Indeed, and the thought of a secret organization filled with powerful students watching over the school, without knowing who they are or how many they are, is very reassuring for Horace. Did you like him?"

"Somewhat," Harry said, nodding. "He seems to have genuinely cared for his students, but... eh..."

"Horace likes his comfort," Dumbledore said. "He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself. He prefers the backseat, more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favorites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knock for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club of his favorites with himself at the center, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favorite crystalized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin Liaison Office."

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

"I tell you all this," Dumbledore continued, "not to turn you against Horace, or, as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn, but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, Harry. You would be the crowning jewel of his collection. 'The Boy-Who-Lived,' or, as they call you these days, 'the Chosen One.'"

"Well, the Chosen One sounds better," Harry said grumpily. "At least they aren't calling me a boy."

Dumbledore chuckled and stopped walking, level with the church they had passed earlier.

"This will do, Harry. If you will grasp my arm."

Harry grabbed Dumbledore's arm, and with a sharp crack, they disappeared.

The two appeared on the doorstep of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and entered. They didn't, however, go into the kitchen, and instead walked up one flight of stairs.

"If you do not mind, Harry," Dumbledore said as they stopped on the top step, "I would like a few words with you before we part."

Harry nodded. He looked around and saw that no one was around.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I promised you that I would tell you everything, Harry, and I will," Dumbledore said. "However, I am afraid that it will have to wait."

Typical, Harry thought, his face falling. He thought Dumbledore was finally going to tell him what was going on.

"Oh, do not worry," Dumbledore said with a smile, patting Harry on the shoulder. "This is merely a short delay. Just until school starts. Which brings me to my next point. It is my wish that you take private lessons with me again this year."

"Private lessons?" Harry asked, remembering the Occlumency and Legilimency lessons from his fourth year. "What will you be teaching me?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Dumbledore said airily, a twinkle in his eye. "Now, I understand that you have started studying Healing, yes?"

Harry nodded again.

"Yes, sir. The Avalon has a surprisingly lot of books and tools for it."

"Good, then I was hoping that you could help me with this," Dumbledore said as he showed off his blackened and burned arm.

Harry took Dumbledore's hand in his own and looked it over. Then, he glanced at Dumbledore.

"Cursed?"

"Yes. I have never seen a curse like this before. Professor Snape has managed to slow it down, but he was never able to stop or remove it. As such, I am dying."

At this, Harry's eyes went wide, and he looked down at the hand, poking here and there and sending pulses of magic into Dumbledore's arm. It was a curse that deteriorated the victim's flesh. It was a very old and very dark curse... Where had he read about these symptoms before? Suddenly, Harry's eyes widened as the answer came to him.

"The Pestilence!" he exclaimed suddenly.

Dumbledore blinked in confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"Dobby!"

With a pop, the house-elf appeared between the two wizards.

"Yes, sir, Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby asked, eager to please.

"Take us to the library, please."

Dobby nodded and grabbed Harry and Dumbledore's hands. They disappeared, and reappeared in the Avalon library, in front of Harry and Sirius's chairs.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry told the house-elf, who bowed low before popping away. Harry looked at Dumbledore and said, "Please, sit."

Dumbledore did as he was told, sitting down in Sirius's chair as Harry sprinted deeper into the library. He found the bookshelf he was looking for and waved his hand. A small, diary-sized book on the top shelf, high above, came soaring into his hand, and he snatched it out of the air, before rushing back to Dumbledor.

"Congratulations, sir," Harry told Dumbledore as he sat down in his chair. "You are the first to be hit with this curse since Merlin himself."

As he gave Dumbledore time to digest this, Harry flipped through the book, trying to find what he was looking for.

"What is that book, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"This is one of Merlin's journals," Harry said with a smile, then gave off a quick "Aha!" when he found what he was looking for. "Here it is," he said and put the journal down on the table, sliding it over to Dumbledore. "The curse of the First Horseman of the the Apocalypse, Pestilence."

–

_Now, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, have you heard of them? No? Well then, let me tell you a bit about them. They were four brothers, very powerful wizards, who surfaced when Merlin was in his early twenties. There was Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death. Pestilence was truly terrifying when it came to curses. He must have invented around ninety of them, and he struck people for mere amusement. His worst curse was the one he named after himself, the Curse of Pestilence. It was a curse that deteriorated people over time. The caster decided how quickly they would deteriorate. The skin and flesh would get a burned black color, and once the curse was completed, the victim would be reduced to coal._

_War was excellent at offensive spells. He invented most of the ones used today, including the Stunner. He was also the one who invented the Cruciatus Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses._

_Famine, the weakest of the three, was more adept at defensive and manipulative charms. He would go into battle and deprive his opponents of oxygen, by simply manipulating their lungs into stopping. He could also, as his name suggests, starve his opponents. His second most powerful curse was the Curse of Famine, which did just that, starved the victim. If hit by this curse, in a minute you would be just as hungry as you'd be if you'd go a week without eating. It was a terrifying curse, as death by starvation is no way to die. The most powerful curse Famine invented was the Imperius Curse, another Unforgivable._

_Lastly was Death. He was the most powerful of the four, and was more skilled with offensive spells than his brother, War, and better with defensive spells than his brother, Famine. His most powerful curse was, you guessed it, the Killing Curse, the Avada Kedavra, a curse so powerful that it couldn't be shielded against._

_Well, now you know of the Four Horse- What? How did Merlin defeat them?_

_He didn't. Well, not at first._

_Merlin battled only Pestilence, and was hit with the Curse of Pestilence, after which he retreated in shame. Merlin wasn't all that skilled at that time, and the Four Horsemen roamed free, killing left and right, while Merlin focused on trying to rid himself of the curse. Well, as you guessed, he succeeded, but he was afraid. He was deathly afraid of the four brothers._

_It wasn't until he reached the age of fifty that Merlin faced them again. He was nearly killed, battling all four of them at once. But he did it. He killed them, not knowing that the four brothers had already taken apprentices, and taught them so much..._

–

Harry sat in the dining hall with Dumbledore the following morning. None of them had slept, and they just sat there, staring at Dumbledore's arm. The cursed arm was riddled with acupuncture needles. Each needle had a slip of parchment on it, all of which had several runes written on them. Dumbledore had to help Harry with that part, as he had gotten an O in his Runes NEWTS.

"Do you think we did something wrong?" Harry asked in boredom. For the last hour and a half, he had been sitting there, staring at the blackened arm, which showed no change.

"I do not think so," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "Everything was done exactly as Merlin had written."

A shriek pierced the silence, and Harry spun, shooting out with his arm toward the doorway, just in time to stop a tray filled with cups from crashing to the floor. Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway with Mr. Weasley and the Weasley children. Mr. Weasley and the children were obviously going to help her set the table for breakfast.

"Albus!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "What... What are you doing?"

"Oh, good morning, Molly," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Harry and I are merely employing a counter-curse."

"Counter-curse?" came a voice from the back of the family, and Bill Weasley stepped into view, with a newly awoken Fleur Delacour on his arm. What was she doing here?

"I was unfortunate enough to stumble upon the ancient Curse of Pestilence," Dumbledore said conversationally. "Luckily, Avalon's vast library had the counter-curse for it. We are starting to believe that it may have been wrong, however..."

"Professor!" Harry called suddenly as he stared down at Dumbledore's hand.

The blackness, which had spread all the way up to Dumbledore's elbow, was slowly receding, as the parchment on the needle furthest up on the arm started smoking and blackening.

"It's working!" Harry said triumphantly, a bright smile on his face.

"So it is," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Everyone just stood there, frozen in their places as they all watched the black disappear from Dumbledore's arm. Finally, after about an hour, the last of it was gone, and the final piece of parchment was left pitch black. Slowly, Harry and Dumbledore started removing the needles, after which Harry vanished them.

"Well, I best be off, then," Dumbledore said as he stood up. "Harry, I shall see you on September the first."

"Good-bye, Professor."

"Good-bye, Harry. Everyone."

Dumbledore nodded to the Weasleys, and then strode out of the dining hall.

"'Arry!" Fleur said in a throaty voice now that Dumbledore was gone. "Eet 'as been too long!"

"Fleur," Harry said as he stood up. Fleur swooped over to kiss him on each cheek, smiling brightly. "Always a pleasure."

"I 'ave been longing to see you! You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"See me again?" Harry asked as his eyebrow rose.

"Wait... you do not know?" Fleur asked, and Harry shook his head.

Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at the Weasley family.

"We only arrived a day before you did," Mrs. Weasley said. "We haven't got around to tell him yet."

Fleur turned back to Harry, swinging her silvery sheet of hair.

"Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh..." Harry said as he blinked. He never thought he'd hear that. "Oh, wow, congratulations!"

Fleur swooped in and kissed him again, and he smiled, before shaking Bill's hand.

"I'm very happy for you."

"Thank you," Bill said with a grin. "Well, I only came by to say hello. I have to go to work. It's good to see you again, Harry."

With that, Bill left as everyone sat down to eat breakfast.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so 'e brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to 'ear zat zis was your place," Fleur said excitedly, sitting opposite Harry. "By ze way, I like your 'air. Vairy _charmant_!"

"Oh, thank you," Harry said as he ran a hand through his untamed hair. "I don't know how it happened, but I like it, so I figured I'd stick with it."

Hermione came into the dining hall, yawning.

"Good morning."

"Good morning," the people at the table chorused as Hermione sat down next to Harry, her shoulders slumped.

"'Ello, 'Ermione," Fleur said, flashing Hermione a brilliant smile.

"Hello, Fleur," Hermione said distantly as she buttered a piece of toast. Then, she blinked and looked up. "Fleur?"

Fleur reached over the table and brought Hermione in for a hug, kissing her on each cheek.

"I will be staying 'ere for a while," Fleur said happily. "I guess you 'aven't 'eard either?" When Hermione looked confused, Fleur sighed. "Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh, wow!" Hermione said, her eyes widening. "Congratulations!"

"Zank you!"

"You look tired, Hermione," Harry commented as Hermione's shoulders slumped again.

"I didn't get much sleep last night for some reason," Hermione said.

Harry hated seeing Hermione like this, all tired and whatnot... Then, he figured out a perfect way to get her wide awake.

"Oh, by the way," he said to Hermione, smiling. "Dumbledore told me that our OWL results would be arriving today."

Hermione blinked. Then...

"TODAY!" she shrieked. "Today? But why didn't you... Oh my God... your should have said..."

She leapt to her feet.

"I'm going to see whether any owls have come..."

"And that is how you wake Hermione up," Harry informed an amused Fleur, who was watching Hermione as she rushed out of the dining hall. "Hey, where's Fred and George?"

"Oh, they have an apartment above their store in Diagon Alley," Mrs. Weasley said. "They have been doing very well for themselves. I always thought it was just childish dreaming, but they actually have quite the nose for business."

"Well, I'm glad I sponsored them, then," Harry said, which made everyone at the table go wide-eyed, except for Fleur, who merely looked confused.

"You what?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I gave them my half of the Triwizard winnings," Harry said. "They needed the money, and I needed something to do with mine, so I gave it to them. In return, they offered to give me ten percent of the income, and ten percent ownership in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, but I only took the ownership and the right to free merchandize."

"Bill told me 'ow Fred and George are very amusing," Fleur said, smiling serenely.

"They're hilarious," Harry said, nodding.

"SIRIUS, PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!"

Everyone jumped as they heard Hermione's shout, and within seconds, Sirius appeared, carrying a struggling Hermione under one arm, and holding three large, square envelopes and a wand in his other hand.

"Does this brown-haired Bludger that tackled me belong to any of you?" Sirius asked in amusement.

"Sirius, please put me down!" Hermione yelled. Her backside was pointed forward, and she was pounding her fists against the back of Sirius's thigh. "This is very humiliating!"

"Well, you should have thought about that before you attacked me."

"You wouldn't give me my letter!"

"You never asked politely."

"Hermione, don't attack people in the hallways," Harry chided sternly. "Sirius, put Hermione down. Don't make me get the leash."

Immediately, Sirius dropped Hermione, causing her to fall to the floor with a cry of surprise. He narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Dog Nazi!"

"His nickname for me," Harry informed Fleur as he gestured for Sirius. "See, he really doesn't like to wear a leash while he's in his dog form, so he gets a bit cranky."

"Hey, I-"

Sirius stopped in surprise when the envelopes and wand were snatched out of his hand by a frantic Hermione, who rushed over to the dining table, handing one envelope to Ron, another to Harry, and keeping hers to herself.

Sirius plopped down next to Harry, who opened his envelope and unfolded the parchment inside.

_**ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS**_

_**Pass Grades**_

_Outstanding (O)_

_Exceeds Expectations (E)_

_Acceptable (A)_

_**Fail Grades**_

_Poor (P)_

_Dreadful (D)_

_Troll (T)_

–

_Harry James Potter has achieved:_

_Astronomy – E_

_Care of Magical Creatures – O_

_Charms – O_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts – O_

_Magical Sensory – O_

_Herbology – O_

_History of Magic – T (failed to attend)_

_Potions – O_

_Transfiguration – O_

"Well, this wasn't too bad," Harry said, only to get the parchment snatched out of his hands by Sirius, who looked it over.

"Not too bad? Harry this is great! Seven Outstandings, one Exceeds Expectations, and one Troll!"

"You got a Troll?" Mr. Weasley asked. "How could you get a Troll?"

"I didn't show up to the History test, due to my attacking Umbridge, remember?" Harry said, to which Mr. Weasley nodded. Harry looked at Hermione. She had her back to him and her head bent. "And how did you do, Hermione?"

"I... not bad," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Not bad, she says," Harry muttered to Sirius as he reached over and took the parchment from Hermione, looking it over. Then, his eyes widened at what he saw, and his eyes twitched. "Nine Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations..."

"Well, what did you expect? It's Hermione," Ron said, looking over his own results.

"But it was Defense..."

"It was the theory!" Hermione exclaimed immediately. "I managed the practical exam perfectly thanks to you, but I was so nervous about it that I couldn't focus on the written exam! I swear!"

Harry felt very tempted to step up the training of the Order once they got back to Hogwarts, but then again... Finally, he slid the parchment over to Hermione with a grunt.

"Hey, what happened to you, anyway?" Harry asked as he looked to Sirius. "I mean, where have you been all night?"

Sirius hummed thoughtfully, as though contemplating whether or not to tell Harry. Then, he spoke, "I've been to the Ministry, and got my full pardon and compensation. With that compensation, I bought a couple of acres of land not too far from Hogsmeade," he said with a grin. "I have decided that I'm going to move Buckbeak, henceforth known as Witherwings, so as to avoid trouble with the Ministry, there. I am going to become a Hippogriff breeder!"

Harry stared at Sirius. Was he... No, even in his mind, that pun sounded stupid.

Harry settled for asking, "Really?" with a snort. "Good luck with that."

"What, you don't think I can do it? Bucky loves me, and with training, all other Hippogriffs will as well! Hagrid is going to give me a few of them from his herd."

"Again, good luck with that..."

"Thank you."

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	8. Chapter 8

**Enjoy!**

–

On September the first, Harry waved out of the Hogwarts Express until the train had turned a corner and Sirius and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were lost to view, then turned to see where the others had got to. Ron and Hermione were cloistered in the prefects' carriage, and Ginny was a little way along the corridor. So, he was alone, then, since Ginny would probably want to sit with Dean.

People stared shamelessly as he moved through the train. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him. He had expected an upswing in the amount of gaping and gawping he would have to endure this term, but he didn't enjoy the sensation of standing in a very bright spotlight.

Before long, Harry found himself surrounded by mesmerized girls, who stared at him in awe. This was insane...

"Hi, Harry!" a familiar voice called from behind him.

"Neville!" Harry said in relief as he turned to see a Neville struggling toward him.

"Hello, Harry," Luna said, walking just behind Neville.

"Luna, hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," Luna said, clutching a copy of the Quibbler to her chest.

"Quibbler still going strong, then?" Harry asked. He'd always liked the Quibbler.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," Luna said happily.

"Let's find seats," Harry said, and the three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.

"They're even staring at _us_!" Neville said, indicating himself and Luna. "Because we're with you!"

"It's a little annoying, isn't it?" Harry asked in amusement as he magicked his trunk into the luggage rack. "Now you know what I've had to deal with ever since I arrived at Hogwarts."

"I have gained new-found respect for you, I must admit," Neville said. "Oi, come back here, Trevor!"

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

"Are we still doing Order meetings this year, Harry?" Luna asked, detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of the Quibbler.

"Of course we are," Harry said, showing off his ring. "This wasn't just a one-year thing, you know."

"Oh, good," Luna said serenely. "I greatly enjoyed the meetings. It was like having friends."

Harry smiled softly.

"It wasn't just _like_ having friends, Luna," he told her. "We _are_ your friends."

Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from under it.

"So, will we be recruiting first years, then?"

"Well, we didn't do that last year. It's a little too advanced for them. However, we will be recruiting from third year and up," Harry said. "Has everyone got their rings?"

"I don't know about anyone else, but I never take mine off," Neville said, showing off his hand, where the ring was proudly displayed. Luna did the same, smiling.

Suddenly, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door. A group of fourth-year girls was whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!"

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large, dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said loudly and confidently. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with _them_," she added in a stage whisper, indicating Neville's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the look of a demented, multicolored owl.

"That's good, that's a great way to end up on my bad side," Harry said, "insulting my friends like that."

"Oh," the girl said, looking very surprised. Harry shot her a look.

"I'm going to be very generous right now, and I'm going to let that insult slide, because I'm going to forget you ever said that. In return, you will leave, and try again some other time, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

With that, the girl withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," Luna said, displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty.

"You are cool," Harry said shortly. "And people seem to expect a lot from me. I bet that if I pulled down my trousers, they'd expect me to have an arse made out of solid gold that shoots lightning bolts at Death Eaters."

Luna burst out laughing at that, so hard that her eyes started tearing, and she clutched at her ribs. As Neville emerged from underneath the seat with fluff and dust in his hand and a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand, he was laughing as well.

Once the laughter died down, and Luna wiped her eyes, still snickering, Neville leaned back in his seat.

"You should hear my gran talk about you. 'That Harry Potter's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!' She'd give anything to have you as a grandson..."

Harry laughed uncomfortably. He didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just smoothly changed the subject to OWL results as soon as he could. Neville recited his grades and wondered aloud whether he would be allowed to take Transfiguration NEWT with only an Acceptable.

The weather beyond the train windows was as patchy as it had been all summer. They passed through stretches of the chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Hermione and Ron entered the compartment at last.

"Hi, Neville. Hi, Luna," Hermione said pleasantly as she sat down next to Harry. "Guess what," she said, turning to Harry. "Malfoy isn't doing his prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed."

"What did he do when he saw you?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter. He was having some suspicions about Malfoy, ever since running into him in Diagon Alley.

"The usual," Ron said indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well, _that_ is," he said and did the hand gesture again, "but why isn't he out there bullying the first years?"

"Perhaps he has more important things on his mind?" Harry mused, humming.

"Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad," Hermione guessed. "Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that."

"I don't think so," Harry said, shaking his head. "I think he's-"

But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver this to Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out a scroll of parchment tied with a violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry took the scroll, and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Hermione asked as Harry unrolled the scroll.

"An invitation," Harry said.

_Harry,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of of lunch in compartment C._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor H. E. F. Slughorn._

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Neville asked once Harry finished reading the invitation out loud.

"The new teacher," Harry said. "Well, I suppose I'll have to go, won't I? Wouldn't do to insult our new teacher."

Harry headed out into the corridor, which was packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, and started walking. The staring seemed to have increased in intensity since he last walked down the train. Every now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him.

When he reached compartment C, he saw at once that he wasn't Slughorn's only invitee, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn said, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silver mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you!"

At a gesture from Slughorn, Harry sat down in one of the only two empty seats, which were nearest to the door. He glanced around at his fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from his tear, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes. There were also two seventh-year boys Harry didn't know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she wasn't entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Harry. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course."

Zabini didn't make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Harry. After all, Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other...? No?"

McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry nodded back at him.

"And this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether...?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"And _this_ charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Ginny grimaced at Harry from behind Slughorn's back.

"Well now, this is most pleasant," Slughorn said cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch. The trolly, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... Pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Harry. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved."

"Damocles..." Harry mumbled as he rubbed his chin. "Damocles Belby, isn't that the man who invented the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"Oho, very good, Harry!" Slughorn praised happily. "So, do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant, and in his haste to answer Slughorn, he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

"Anapneo," Slughorn said calmly, pointing his wand and Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not... not much of him, no," Belby gasped, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," Slughorn said, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose..." Belby said, seeming to be afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure Slughorn had finished with him. "Er... he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."

His voice trailed off as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, _you_, Cormac," Slughorn said, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," McLaggen said. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour, though this was before he became Minister, obviously..."

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus, too?" Slughorn beamed, now offering around a small tray of pies. Somehow, Belby was missed out.

"How big were they?" Harry asked before Slughorn could speak again.

"I'm sorry?" McLaggen asked.

"The nogtails," Harry said. "How big were they. I mean, hunting foot-tall nogtails isn't something to brag about, right?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," McLaggen said, and Harry saw his chest puff out with pride. "The smallest one we hunted was around four feet tall, and at least five or six long."

"That's impressive," Harry admitted, nodding.

"Thank you."

Slughorn clapped his hands together, apparently very pleased to see Harry and McLaggen 'bonding.'

"Now, tell me..."

It was as Harry had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known of influential, everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother, who, from what Harry could make out, had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold.

"And now," Slughorn said, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! _Where_ to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!" He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!"

Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at him.

"Of course," Slughorn said, watching Harry closely, "there have been rumors for years... I remember when, well, after that _terrible_ night... Lily... James... and you survived... and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary..."

Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.

"Yeah, Zabini, because _you're_ so talented... at posing..."

"Oh dear!" Slughorn chuckled comfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's great belly. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!"

Zabini merely looked contemptuous.

"Anyway," Slughorn said, turning back to Harry. "_Such_ articles this summer! A duel with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... single-handedly capturing a large amount of Death Eaters, killing Dolohov... and the Prophecy! Truly, you displayed your trademark Gryffindor courage that night, m'boy!"

Harry felt uncomfortable with all the praise, and merely looked away.

"So modest, so modest," Slughorn said, beaming. "So, Harry, what are your plans for your life? I mean, you must have goals, right? Perhaps a dream job or something?"

The hint that Slughorn was offering to help him get whatever job Harry might want was very obvious.

"I don't really have a dream job," Harry said, shrugging. "Actually, I only have one goal in mind right now. That is to put every single Death Eater in Azkaban, and put Voldemort (He paused here as everyone in the room flinched at the name) in the deepest grave I can find. After that... Well, I figure something out."

"Oh, come now, Harry," Slughorn prodded shrewdly. "I know there is more to your life than that."

"True," Harry said. "Well, I want to study magic, I guess. Travel the world, study the shamanistic magic of the Kenyans, the spiritual energy of the Asians, you know, all the magicks. So either before or after Voldemort is dead, I am planning on traveling the world."

"Ah yes, the world," Slughorn said, smiling brightly. "I remember when dear Gwenog told me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies)..."

He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Harry had the distinct impression that Slughorn hadn't finished with him.

The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustros wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the 'Slug Club' at Hogwarts.

"...yes, he was a great wizard, took down the Muggle-killers in Moscow, you know." Slughorn finished his tale about another one of his students as the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset. He looked around, blinking in the twilight.

"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Blaise, any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

As he pushed past Harry into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him a filthy look that Harry returned with interest. He and Ginny followed Zabini back along the train.

"How come you ended up in there, Ginny?" Harry asked.

"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," Ginny said. "You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the Order? He kept on and on asking about what happened with you in the Ministry, and in the end he annoyed me so much that I hexed him. When Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"

"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's famous," Harry said, scowling at the back of Zabini's head, "or because their uncle is famous."

Then, Harry had an idea. In a minute's time, Zabini was going to reenter the Slytherin sixth-year compartment and Malfoy would be sitting there, thinking himself unheard by anybody except his fellow Slytherins. Grinning suddenly, Harry turned to Ginny.

"Can you keep a secret, Ginny?"

Ginny blinked.

"Er, sure, Harry. Why?"

Harry closed his eyes and focused. This was the first time he attempted a full transformation outside his own mind. He felt his head lengthening as his body shrunk. Fur was sprouting on his face and hands, which were shrinking into paws. Where once had stood Harry Potter now stood an Eurasian Wolf, with fur as black as night and a pair of almost shining green eyes. Ginny gasped as she saw him, and Harry nodded his head, before breaking off into a run.

As a wolf, his senses were sharper than ever. He could hear the talking in each compartment he passed, could smell the perfume the girl five compartments behind him was wearing, and could see the whole train car clearly, could see every little detail.

He sprinted after Zabini, taking care not to make any noise to make him look back. As Zabini went into his compartment, Harry sat down outside, his long canine tongue lolling out as he panted. The air tasted different as a wolf, he noticed, but found that he didn't dislike it.

"So, Zabini," he heard Malfoy say from inside, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," Zabini said. "Not that he managed to find many."

"Who else had he invited?" Malfoy demanded, not sounding pleased in the slightest.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor-"

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," Malfoy said.

"-someone else called Belby, for Ravenclaw-"

"Not him, he's a prat!" Harry heard the voice of Pansy Parkinson say.

"-and Potter and that Weasley girl," Zabini finished.

Malfoy could be heard scoffing.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at 'the Chosen One,'" Malfoy said, and by the sound of his voice it was obvious that he was sneering, "but that Weasley girl! What's so special about _her_?"

"A lot of boys like her," Pansy said. "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," Zabini said coldly.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste. Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or-"

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," Zabini interrupted. "He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught by Potter at the Ministry, he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

Malfoy gave off a singularly humorless laugh, suggesting that he was very angry.

"Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher." Harry heard Malfoy yawn. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" Pansy asked indignantly.

"Well, you never know," Malfoy said. "I might have, er, moved on to bigger and better things."

Silence followed this statement. Malfoy had apparently shocked the others into silence.

"Do you mean... _Him_?" Pansy asked finally after a minute of silence.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it... When the Dark Lord takes over, it he going to care how many OWLs or NEWTs anyone's got? Of course he isn't... It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for him?" Zabini asked scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," Malfoy said quietly, but Harry's ears heard it.

The transformation process occurred again, only in reverse. His body grew, and his face shortened, the fur disappearing from his body as he stood up, visible in the window, and pushed the door to the compartment open, a smirk on his face. Malfoy, who had been lying across two seats with his head in Pansy's lap, shot up immediately.

"Potter!" he exclaimed, reaching for his wand, but Harry's hand had already shot out, forming a pistol shape.

"Not so fast, Malfoy," Harry said. "Now, that was a very interesting conversation you had there."

A muscle under Malfoy's eye twitched, and his pale eyes showed clear signs of nervousness, but Malfoy was quick to mask it with a look of defiance.

"You heard nothing of importance, Potter," he muttered, shaking his head. "You can't get me convicted with just that."

"Maybe not," Harry admitted, "but it's enough reason for me to keep a very close eye on you this year, Malfoy. Step one toe out of line, and I'll take you down. I may be able to get you a nice cell in Azkaban right next to your dad."

All the Slytherins were glaring daggers at Harry, who winked at Malfoy.

"We're almost there. You'd better get your robes on."

With that, Harry slid the compartment shut and walked off, grinning.

–

After the delicious start-of-term feast, Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.

"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

"I've been thinking about the Order," Harry told Hermione, Ron and Neville, which brought Seamus, Dean, Neville and Ginny into the conversation as well. "We'll start recruiting from third year and up. I have modified the parchment we all signed, so we can talk about it, we can tell people what we do, but we cannot reveal how many we are, or where we have our meetings. This is a secret order, and we are stepping it up."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Dean asked as he blinked in confusion.

"Originally, we were only training to defend ourselves, to defend against Death Eaters, and to rub it in Umbridge's face. However, the Dragon Order has the potential to become something bigger. We will become Hogwarts's unofficial protectors."

This seemed to take everyone by surprise, judging by everyone's gasps.

"I will tell you more at our next meeting," Harry said with a wink, before looking up at Dumbledore.

"...and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn," Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his bit waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow, "is a former colleague of mine, who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?"

"_Potions_?"

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they'd heard right.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore said, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Harry was shocked to hear this. Hadn't Snape been denied the post for Merlin knows how long? How come Dumbledore had suddenly decided to allow him to do it?

Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up at the mention of his name. He merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. The mutterings that had broken out quieted down. Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."

The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry glanced at Malfoy. Malfoy was not looking at Dumbledore, but making his fork hover in midair with his wand, as though he found the headmaster's words unworthy of his attention.

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensue that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them, in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.

"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

–

"Thank you all for coming."

Harry stood in the Room of Requirement, looking over his Dragon Order. Almost all members from the year before were there, with the exception of those who had graduated, like Cedric, Angelina, and Alicia, and Zacharias Smith and Marietta Edgecombe.

The Room of Requirement was different from last year. While it looked the same as always, the room had been extended, and now had a long table at the far end, with enough chairs for every single member to sit. Harry stood at one end of the table, in front of his chair, smiling brightly.

"I admit, I am very pleased to see that you are all still interested in the Dragon Order, even after Umbridge has left."

Several of the members nodded, and others smiled up at him, murmuring.

"That's good, because we now have another purpose, a bigger purpose," Harry announced, effectively silencing his Order members. "From this moment on, we shall be the hidden protectors of Hogwarts. We'll be the shadows, posing as a mere study group."

"Um, pardon me," Hannah Abbott said, raising her hand, "but, uh... why? I mean, what can we do inside the castle?"

"Even though the adults can't see it, I can see the threat the Death Eater children pose," Harry said as he looked seriously over the Order. "They are the perfect weapons for Voldemort, as Dumbledore refuses to believe that they are capable of the atrocious crimes the Death Eaters commit. But you have all seen or heard of what a teenager can do. When he sat his NEWTs, Dumbledore did things with a wand that his examiner had never seen before, and three people, whose names will stay unknown, managed to become Animagi at age fifteen."

"And then there's you," Cho pointed out.

Harry blinked. He'd honestly forgotten to mention himself.

"And then there's me," he agreed, nodding. "Now, on the Hogwarts Express, I overheard Draco Malfoy hinting to his friends that Voldemort has given him a job to do. Now," he added, raising his hands as he heard several of the members wave him off, "it's true that this might just be lies and simple showing off, but what if it isn't?"

"But what if it is?" Hermione asked gently.

"But what if it isn't?" Harry repeated. "What if, right now, an agent of Voldemort is inside Hogwarts, doing a job for him? In Diagon Alley, we saw him flinch away and yell at Madam Malkin for pricking him with a needle when she got near his left arm, even though the needle was nowhere near his skin, then we saw him in Borgin & Burkes, purchasing something and showing off his left arm, and now, I heard him brag. This isn't just coincidence."

Harry sat down and took a deep breath.

"In any case, we need to be prepared. We need to be on the lookout for anything suspicious. I hope that you will all treat this seriously. Hogwarts is our home, and I, for one, refuse to allow a threat, no matter how small, to go unwatched," he said, then clapped his hands together. "And now that that's over with, let's get to training, shall we?"

Harry was very pleased to see that all the members of the Order were eager to get started. As they went over what they had done the previous year, they proved that they had remembered every single spell he'd taught them. And so, Harry decided to teach them the Patronus Charm, which everyone seemed very keen to practice, though, as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they weren't under threat was very different to producing it when confronted by something like a dementor.

They seemed to be very eager not to listen to Harry when it came to that fact, and instead focused on how, as Lavender said, "pretty they were."

Once Harry was certain that everyone knew how to summon a Patronus, even if most of them couldn't, he looked at his watch and went wide-eyed.

"Oh, shite, we're running late," he muttered, putting his whistle in his mouth and blowing hard. Once everyone had stopped casting and turned to him, he spoke, "Alright, guys, we'll have to stop here, or we'll be late for breakfast. As always, I'll send you the time for the next meeting. If you have a problem with it, come talk to me. Now, let's go."

Everyone headed out of the Room of Requirement and went straight to the Great Hall for breakfast.

After Harry had eaten, he remained in his place with Hermione, awaiting McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, as McGonagall first needed to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary OWL grades to continue with their chosen NEWTs.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado. Neville took a little longer to sort out. His round face was anxious as McGonagall looked down his application and then consulted his OWL results.

"Herbology, fine," she said. "Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' OWL. And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is Transfiguration. I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to NEWT level. I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."

Neville hung his head, and McGonagall peered at him through her square spectacles.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration, anyway? I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

Neville looked miserable and muttered something about "my grandmother wants."

"Hmph," McGonagall snorted. "It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have."

Neville turned very pink and blinked in confusion. McGonagall had never paid him a compliment before.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my NEWT class. I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, however, why not try for a NEWT in Charms?"

"My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," Neville mumbled.

"Take Charms," McGonagall said, "and I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed _her_ Charms OWL, the subject is not necessarily worthless." Smiling slightly at the look of delighted incredulity on Neville's face, McGonagall tapped a blank schedule with the tip of her wand and handed it, now carrying details of his new classes, to Neville.

McGonagall turned next to Parvati Patil and went over her schedule.

Five minutes later, Harry noticed movement in the corner of his eye, and looked to see Parvati setting off for Divination, looking slightly crestfallen.

"So, Potter, Potter..." McGonagall said, consulting her notes as she turned to Harry. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Trasfigurations, Potions... all fine. I must say I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark, Potter, very pleased."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said with a smile. "And thank you for the 'Outstanding' in Magical Sensory."

"You're welcome, Potter," McGonagall said as she handed over Harry's schedule. "Very well, Potter, here is your schedule."

Harry took his schedule with a nod and looked it over as McGonagall moved on. He had a free period now, and a free period after break, and then another one after lunch. Harry decided to make good use of the free period, and got out of his seat, rushing out of the Hall.

He headed out of the castle, and across the lawns toward Hagrid's cabin. He noticed, on the way, that the newly planted grass hadn't completely grown on the spot where Harry had exploded the ground the previous year. As he knocked on Hagrid's door, he was immediately greeted by the exciting barking from Fang.

"Down, Fang, down!" came Hagrid's voice from the inside as the door opened, and a beaming Hagrid stood in the doorway. "Harry! Come in, come in! I can't wait fer yer firs' class," he said in excitement as Harry stepped inside. "I've got summat interestin' ter show yeh."

"Hagrid, I'm sorry," Harry said as he sat down at Hagrid's table, "but I didn't choose Creatures for my NEWTs..."

Hagrid froze, his face clearly showing his shock.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said again with a sigh. "But I'll be busy this year, very busy. I just don't have time for it. I've got classes, the Order, private lessons with Dumbledore, and the prophecy to worry about."

"So yeh... yeh're not..." Hagrid trailed off as his shoulders slumped. He moved over to the table and sat down heavily on his chair. "Well, I suppose I shouldn' be too surprised... My lessons aren' exactly popular..."

"But I like them!" Harry exclaimed immediately, with such passion in his voice that Hagrid seemed to jump in surprise. "Honestly, Hagrid, they are some of the most enjoyable classes here, but I-"

"I know, I know," Hagrid said gently, a smile appearing on his face. "I appreciate yeh comin' down here ter tell me this, Harry."

"I'll still visit, though," Harry said resolutely. "Just because I don't have time for the classes themselves, that doesn't mean I won't be interested in the creatures you bring here."

"Tha' means a lot ter me, Harry," Hagrid said as he reached over and patted Harry on the shoulder. As always, it felt like Harry's spine was going to snap from the force. "Now, yeh want some tea, then?"

"Yes, please, Hagrid," Harry said, rubbing his aching shoulder. He was very happy his half-giant friend didn't blame him.

–

After the free period and plenty of pleasant conversation with Hagrid, Harry left the cabin, and headed to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously when Harry joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"And you also have to go see Hagrid and apologize," Harry said as he waited. "I've just been there."

"Oh, how did he react?" Hermione asked, looking even more anxious. "Was he... was he angry?"

"No, he was surprisingly understanding," Harry said with a smile. "Of course, that may have been because I promised to visit him on some of my free periods."

The classroom door opened just as Harry finished speaking, and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

Harry looked around as they entered. Snape had imposed his personality upon the room already. It was gloomier than usual, as curtains had been drawn over the windows, and was lit by candlelight. New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. Hermione hastily dropped her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

His black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Harry's than anyone else's.

"You've had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe," he said. "Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion, I am surprised so many of you scraped an OWL in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the NEWT work, which will be much more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice, and the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," Snape said, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. Your... Potter? What is it?"

Harry, who had raised his hand, spoke up. "But, sir, the same can be said for defenses against the Dark Arts, can't it? After all, Brahm wrote that magic is a lot like Newton's Law, that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. So, the Light Arts are just as flexible and inventive, right?"

Snape seemed to look displeased that Harry had managed to ask a question that he couldn't fault, so he simply crossed his arms, and with a nod said, "Indeed, Potter."

Perhaps it was because he simply couldn't find anything wrong, or because he was truly passionate about this job, but Snape didn't, unlike in Potions, spend a long time glaring at Harry, and instead continued.

"Yes, your defenses much be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse," he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony, "feel the Dementor's Kiss," a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall, "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius." Finally, Snape pointed at a portrait with nothing but a bloody mass upon the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati asked in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, the watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

"...you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Both Harry and Hermione's hands shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice. Then, he appeared to be making a mental coin toss to figure out which one he should choose. Finally, he curtly said, "Very well, Mr. Potter?"

"The element of surprise," Harry answered. "Saying the incantation will give your opponent a warning about what magic you are using, giving them the possibility to defend. Nonverbal magic will give no such advantage to your opponents."

"Correct," Snape said, not giving a single point to Harry. Even McGonagall would have given at least ten for that answer. "Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course. It is a question of concentration and mind power with some lack.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other _without speaking_. The other will attempt to repel the jinx _in equal silence_. Carry on."

Although Snape didn't know it, Harry had taught at least half the class, those who were in the Order, how to perform the Shield Charm. He was starting to regret not teaching them nonverbal magic sooner.

A reasonable amount of cheating ensued. Many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud. Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Harry's nonverbal Jelly-Leg Jinx, and they were currently bouncing it between each other with shields, a feat which would have earned them both twenty points each from any reasonable teacher, but which Snape ignored.

Harry scoffed a short while later, as they were on their way to break.

"Overgrown bat he may be, but I have to admit, he sure knows what he's talking about," he admitted sourly. He really didn't like complimenting Snape. It left a bad taste in his mouth...

"It took a lot to say that, didn't it?" Hermione asked shrewdly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"More than you can imagine..." Harry muttered, shaking his head.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!"

Harry looked around and saw... Jack Sloper, he believed his name was, hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"For you," Sloper panted.

"Thanks, Jack," Harry said with a nod. Sloper gave a lazy salute, before rushing off again, as Harry unrolled the parchment.

_Dear Harry,_

_I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 P.M. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops._

"Acid pops?" Hermione asked, reading the message as she walked next to Harry.

"The password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," Harry said in a low voice.

After break, Hermione went off to Arithmancy, while Harry went back to the common room to get started on Snape's homework. It was surprisingly complex, and it took Harry the better part of the free period and after-lunch free period to complete it. It was... refreshing, to say the least. Hermione had joined him for the after-lunch free period. They had only just finished when the bell rang for the afternoon's double Potions and they beat the familiar path down to the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.

When they arrived in the corridor, they saw that there were only a dozen people progressing to NEWT level. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to achieve the required OWL grade, but four Slytherins had made it through, including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there, and once Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson, I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old Order lags..."

"But Shield Charms using nonverbal magic is harder, Ernie," Harry said with a smile as he shook Ernie's hand. "We'll be doing that a lot in the meetings this year."

Before Ernie could say anything in response, the dungeon door opened, and Slughorn's belly preceded him out of the door. As they filed into the room, his great walrus mustache curved above his beaming mouth, and he greeted Harry and Zabini with particular enthusiasm.

The dungeon was, most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ernie to share a table. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled. Somehow it reminded him simultaneously of treacle tart, the smell of nature outside Avalon, and something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He found that he was breathing very slowly and deeply, and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like a drink as a great contentment stole over him.

"Now then, now then, now then," Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors, said. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

As the class simultaneously did as they were told, Slughorn returned to the front of the class.

"Now then, I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your NEWTs. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone can tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron nearest the Slytherin table. Harry raised himself slightly in his seat and saw what looked like plain water boiling away inside it.

Hermione's well-practiced hand hit the air before anybody else's, and Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth."

"Very good, very good!" Slughorn said happily. "Now," he continued pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known... Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately, too... Who can-"

Hermione's hand was the fastest one more.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

"Excellent, excellent!" Now, this one here... Ah, Harry!"

Harry's hand had shot up slightly faster than Hermione's this time. He'd known all three, and he wasn't about to let Hermione answer everything.

"It's Amortentia, sir."

"It is indeed! And do you know what it does?" Slughorn asked.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world," Harry answered. "The best way to identify it is the mother-of-pearl sheen, the steam rising in characteristic spirals, and the smell, which is unique to everyone, according to what attracts them."

"Oh, very good, very good!" Slughorn said, clapping his hands together. Then, he looked to Hermione. "May I ask your name, my dear?"

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Harry saw Malfoy lean close to Nott and whisper something. Both of them sniggered, but Slughorn showed no dismay. On the contrary, he beamed and looked from Hermione to Harry, who was sitting next to her.

"Oho! _'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!'_ I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"The very same, sir," Harry said with a smile. "You won't find a smarter girl in a million years."

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Slughorn said genially, "and twenty for you, Harry!"

Malfoy looked almost the exact same as he had looked the time Hermione had punched him in the face. Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" Harry asked, shrugging.

Hermione smiled, but made a "shhing" gesture, so that they could hear what Slughorn was saying.

"Amortentia doesn't really create _love_, of course. It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room. Oh year," he said, nodding gravely at Malfoy and Nott, both of whom were smirking skeptically. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love...

"And now," Slughorn said, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," Ernie said, pointing at a small, black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily. It was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled.

"Oho," Slughorn said again. Harry was sure that Slughorn hadn't forgotten it at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, _that_ one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, and Harry, whose eyes had widened and an impressed look had settled on his face, "that you two know what Felix Felicius does?"

"It's liquid luck," Hermione said excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

The whole class seemed to sit up a little straighter. Now all Harry could see of Malfoy was the back of his sleek blond head, because he was at last giving Slughorn his full and undivided attention.

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," Slughorn said. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as it has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed... at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, then?" Terry Boot asked eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," Slughorn explained. "Too much of a good thing, you know... highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" Michael Corner asked with great interest.

"Twice in my life," Slughorn said. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days."

He looked dreamily into the distance. Whether he was playacting or not, Harry thought, the effect was good.

"And that," Slughorn said, apparently coming back to earth, "is what I shall be offering as a prize this lesson."

There was silence in which every bubble and gurgle of the surrounding potions seemed magnified tenfold.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," Slughon said, taking a miniscule glass bottle with a cork in it out of his pocked and showing it to them all. "Enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt.

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions... sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only... and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!

"So," Slughorn said, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win my fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of _Advanced Potion-Making_. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

There was a scraping as everyone drew their cauldrons toward them and some loud clunks as people began adding weights to their scales, but nobody spoke. The concentration within the room was almost tangible. Harry saw Malfoy riffling feverishly through his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. It couldn't have been clearer that Malfoy really wanted that lucky day. Harry bent swiftly over his own book.

To his great annoyance, however, the book was different from those he had found in the Avalon library. For example, this book claimed that you had to cut up the sopophorous beans, while Merlin's own book on the subject had claimed that it was better to crush the beans to release the juices. With a sigh, Harry slammed the book shut, and started working by memory.

"Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"

Harry looked up, having just finished chopping his roots. Slughorn was just passing the Slytherin table.

"Yes," Slughorn said without looking at Malfoy, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age..."

And he walked away. Harry bent back over his cauldron, smirking. He could tell that Malfoy had expected to be treated like Harry or Zabini, perhaps even hoped for some preferential treatment of the type he had learned to expect from Snape. It looked as though Malfoy would have to rely on nothing but talent to win the bottle of Felix Felicis.

Harry took his silver knife and crushed his sopophorous bean with the flat side of it. It immediately exuded so much juice that Harry was amazed the shriveled bean could have held it all. Hastily scooping it all into the cauldron he saw, to his surprise, that the potion immediately turned exactly the shade of lilac described in both Merlin's book and Advanced Potion-Making, whereas Hermione's, done exactly according to Advanced Potion-Making, was still a deep shade of purple. This just meant that Merlin's book was more reliable, and Harry decided to continue to go according to memory.

According to his memory, he was now supposed to stir counterclockwise until the potion turned clear as water, adding a clockwise stir after every seventh counterclockwise stir.

Harry stirred counterclockwise, held his breath, and stirred once clockwise. The effect was immediate. The potion turned palest pink.

"How are you doing that?" a red-faced Hermione demanded, her hair growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron. Her potion was still resolutely purple.

"Add a clockwise stir-"

"No, no, the book says counterclockwise!" she snapped.

"Well, it's working, isn't it?" Harry snapped back. There he was, trying to help her, and he gets yelled at. Sighing, he shrugged and continued what he was doing.

"And time's... up!" Slughorn called. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn moved slowly among the tables, peering into cauldrons. He made no comment, but occasionally gave the potions a stir or a sniff.

At last, he reached the table where Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ernie were sitting. He smiled ruefully at the tar-like substance in Ron's cauldron. He passed over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod. Then he saw Harry's, and a look of incredulous delight spread over his face.

"The clear winner!" he cried to the dungeon. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are, one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, smiling brightly. Never before had he been so grateful to have found Avalon.

"How did you do that?" Hermione hissed to Harry as they left the dungeon.

"I simply remembered better instructions," Harry said, shrugging. "I took a gamble, and I succeeded."

For the rest of the week's Potions lessons, Harry continued to attend the lessons without ever taking out the textbook, and instead going by memory, a feat that seemed to impress Slughorn greatly. Harry did equally well in his other classes. Having been practicing nonverbal magic for two years now, he was perfectly capable of performing the spells he was ordered to perform. Hermione, however, did not seem pleased with Harry's progress in Potions. She seemed to believe that Harry's deviation from the official instructions was wrong.

"Hermione, what is wrong with you?" Harry asked finally on Saturday, filling out his Transfiguration homework. "Why do you have to complain about this?"

"Because you're not doing what you're told," Hermione snapped, sitting at the same table as him in the common room. "The book says-"

"Merlin says otherwise," Harry interrupted. Then, he realized it. "But that's not it at all, is it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing a miniscule amount. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"Jealous?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Me? Why would I be jealous?"

"Because I'm better than you," Harry said. He couldn't exactly put his finger on what he was feeling. It was something of a mix between amazement and anger. "You can't stand anyone being better than you, can you?"

"Harry, don't be silly," Hermione said, waving him off, but Harry could see it, there, in her eyes. She was jealous.

He chuckled in amazed disbelief.

"I can't believe this... For the first three years here, you have been complaining and complaining to me about how I have to start taking school work more seriously, and when I finally start doing so, you get angry because I turn out to be better than you!"

Hermione flinched. Then, her shoulders sagged, and Harry thought that he was able to see her eyes watering slightly.

"That's not it," she whispered, looking down at her homework. "No, that's not it at all..."

"What is it, then?" Harry demanded.

"It's you..." Hermione whispered, her voice sounding even fainter. Harry had to strain to hear what she was saying. "You're pulling away from me, Harry..." She looked up at him, and Harry was shocked to see that tears were flowing freely now. She looked borderline distraught. "I have always been there, and you have always relied on me for help and answers, but now... I have seen you become this amazing, independent wizard... You have surpassed me in both skill and knowledge, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to catch up to you!"

Harry was very glad there was no one in the common room to see Hermione in this state. He was, quite honestly, shocked to hear those words from Hermione.

"I don't want to be left behind, Harry," Hermione whispered as she looked down at the table again. "But at this rate... I'll be useless to you..."

"Hermione," Harry said as he shot out of his chair. He moved around the table and pulled Hermione to her feet. He hugged her tightly. "You'll never be useless to me," he whispered, feeling Hermione hugging him back. "You're my best friend in the world, Hermione. You're probably the only true friend I have. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll never leave you behind."

"Promise?" Hermione hiccuped into his shirt.

He smiled and said, "I promise, Hermione."

Hermione broke the hug and stepped back, wiping her eyes.

"I'm silly, I know..."

"Not at all," Harry said softly. Then, he looked at his watch. "Blimey, it's five to eight!"

"Ooooh!" Hermione gasped, her red eyes going wide as she started pushing him toward the portrait hole. "You better get to Dumbledore! Good luck! I'll wait up, I want to hear what he teaches you!"

Harry nodded as he left through the portrait hole.

Harry proceeded through deserted corridors, though he had to hastily step behind a statue when Trelawney appeared around a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack of dirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked.

"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured as she passed the place where Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen, Ten of spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possibly troubled, one who dislikes the questioner-"

She stopped dead, right on the other side of Harry's statue.

"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and Harry heard her reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing but a whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry waited until her was completely sure she had gone, then hurried off again until he reached the spot in the seventh-floor corridor where the gargoyle stood.

"Acid Pops," Harry said, and the gargoyle leapt aside. The wall slid apart to reveal the spiraling staircase, onto which Harry stepped, so that he was carried in smooth circles up to the door to Dumbledore's office.

Harry knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice said.

"Good evening, sir," Harry said, walking into the headmaster's office.

"Ah, good evening, Harry. Sit down," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I hope you have had an enjoyable first week back at school?"

"Yes, thanks, sir," Harry said as he walked over to Dumbledore's desk. "You know, I'd tell you that Draco Malfoy is doing a job for Voldemort... but you already know that, don't you?"

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes.

"My suspicions are correct, then," Harry nodded as he sat down.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "It seems that young Draco has been ordered to kill me," he said, his smile disappearing as he looked solemn. "The poor boy does not know what to do, it seems. Although he is an avid believer in pure-blood supremacy, but he does not have the makings of a Death Eater."

"Do you want us to stop him, then?" Harry asked.

"I wish that you and your Order keep an eye on him, but not stop him," Dumbledore said. "Professor Snape informs me that Voldemort has threatened to kill Lucius if Draco fails. I fear he may become desperate, and others could get hurt."

"We'll make sure that no one gets hurt or killed," Harry promised. "And in the event that someone does get hurt, we'll see to it that they get treatment immediately."

"I am grateful, Harry," Dumbledore said, bowing his head in Harry's direction. Harry closed his eyes and pressed his finger against the band of his dragon ring. The onyx dragon glowed a brief red, and Harry opened his eyes again, to see Dumbledore looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Just sending a message," Harry said with a smile.

"May I see that, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as he held out his cured hand. Harry nodded and took off his ring, handing it to Dumbledore who looked it over, studying it while occasionally humming in thought. "This is very impressive magic, Harry. I would say Protean Charm, but..."

"It's my own creation," Harry said proudly. "It's a variation of the Protean Charm, and requires Legilimency to use. The ring basically links my mind to anyone wearing a ring this one is connected to. The messages I send them are undetectable, as they appear in the receiver's head."

"Very impressive," Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes as he handed the ring back to Harry, who put it on again. "So, Harry, you have been wondering, I am sure, what I have planned for you during these, for want of a better word, lessons?"

"Yes, sir."

"I promised you that I would tell you everything, and so I will," Dumbledore said. "However, you must know that from this point forth, we shall be leaving the firm foundation of fact and journeying together through the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork. From here on in, Harry, I may be as woefully wrong as Humphrey Belcher, who believed the time was ripe for a cheese cauldron."

"But you think you're right?" Harry asked.

"Naturally I do, but I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being, forgive me, rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."

–

Harry and Dumbledore reemerged from the pensieve. Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand, as the now twilit office was starting to get dark, while Harry stood contemplative.

"What happened to Merope?" Harry asked.

"Oh, she survived," Dumbledore said, re-seating himself behind his desk and gesturing for Harry to sit down as well. "Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months."

"Marvolo?" Harry asked immediately, his eyes widening.

"That's right," Dumbledore said, smiling with approval. "I am glad to see that you are keeping up."

"So, that old man was Voldemort's... grandfather"

"Yes, he was," Dumbledore said. "Marvolo, his son, Morfin, and his daughter, Merope, were the last of the Gaunts, a very ancient Wizarding family noted for a vein of instability and violence that flourished through the generations due to their habit of marrying their own cousins. Lack of sense coupled with a great liking for grandeur meant that the family gold was squandered several generations before Marvolo was born. He, as you saw, was left in squalor and poverty, with a very nasty temper, a fantastic amount of arrogance and pride, and a couple of family heirlooms that he treasured just as much as his son, and rather more than his daughter."

"So that was Voldemort's mother..." Harry mumbled as he leaned back.

"It was," Dumbledore said. "And it so happens that we also had a glimpse of Voldemort's father. I wonder whether you noticed?"

"The man on the horse," Harry said. Now that he knew that Merope was Voldemort's mother, it was quite easy to figure out. "After all, the girl on the horse called the man Tom."

"Yes, the man on the horse was Tom Riddle senior, the handsome Muggle who used to go riding past the Gaunt cottage, and for whom Merope Gaunt cherished a secret, burning passion."

"And they ended up married?" Harry asked in disbelief, unable to imagine two people less likely to fall in love. Then again, it didn't have to be mutual... "Love potion?"

"Yes, I believe so," Dumbledore said. "Very good. I do not think it would have been very difficult, some hot day, when Riddle was riding alone, to persuade him to take a drink of water. In any case, within a few months of the scene we have just witnessed, the village of Little Hangleton enjoyed a tremendous scandal. You can imagine the gossip it cause when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter, Merope."

"Like a bad romance novel," Harry commented, to which Dumbledore chuckled.

"But the villagers' shock was nothing to Marvolo's. He returned from Azkaban, expecting to find his daughter dutifully awaiting his return with a hot meal ready on his table. Instead, he found a clear inch of dust and her not of farewell, explaining what she had done."

"This sounds more and more like something straight out of a novel, sir," Harry said. "What's next, he pretended he didn't have a daughter, but the grief caused him to die prematurely?"

"Something like that," Dumbleore said, nodding. "Well, I believe it was shock, rather than grief. Or perhaps he had simply never learned to feed himself. Azkaban had greatly weakened Marvolo, and he did not live to see Morfin return to the cottage."

"And Merope died giving birth to Voldemort," Harry said, assuming his thinking pose, where he had his right leg lifted horizontally with his ankle resting against his left knee, and his hand on his chin. "May I?"

"By all means, Harry. After all, the events leading up to Voldemort's birth is a mere guessing game, although it should not be difficult to deduce what happened."

"She was pregnant with Voldemort at the time. Perhaps she loved him so much that she couldn't stand the thought of enslaving him like she did? Did she stop giving him the love potion, out of the belief that he would stay with her anyway, being pregnant with his child and all?"

"That is what I believe, yes," Dumbledore said, seeming pleased that Harry had come to the same conclusion as him. "As you can guess, he left her, and returned to his family in Little Hangleton. The rumor flew around the neighborhood that he was talking of being 'hoodwinked' and 'taken in.' What he meant, I am sure, is that he had been under an enchantment that had now lifted, though I daresay he did not dare use those precise words for fear of being though insane. When they heard what he was saying, however, the villagers guessed that Merope had lied to Tom Riddle, pretending that she was going to have his baby, and that he married her for this reason."

The sky outside was inky black now, and the lamps in Dumbledore's office seemed to glow more brightly than before.

"I think that will do for tonight, Harry," Dumbledore said after a moment of two.

"Yes, sir," Harry said.

He got to his feet, but he didn't leave.

"Sir... Is this all necessary? To know all this about Voldemort's past?"

"Absolutely necessary," Dumbledore said.

"And it's got something to do with the prophecy."

"It has everything to do with the prophecy, at some points."

"Right," Harry said, a little confused, but not about to ask anything else. He turned to go, but then another question occurred to him, and he turned back again. "Sir, am I allowed to tell Hermione everything you've told me?"

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, then said, "Yes, I think Miss Granger has proven herself trustworthy. But Harry, I am going to ask you to ask her not to repeat any of this to anybody else. It would not be a good idea if word got around how much I know, or suspect, about Lord Voldemort's secrets."

"No, sir, I'll make sure it's just Hermione. Good night."

He turned away again, and was almost at the door when he saw it. Sitting on one of the little spindle-legged tables that supported so many frail-looking silver instruments, was an ugly gold ring set with a large, cracked, black stone.

"Sir, that ring..." he said, staring at it.

"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.

"You were wearing it that night when we visited Professor Slughorn..."

"So I was," Dumbledore agreed.

"It's the same ring as the one Marvolo Gaunt showed Ogden, isn't it?"

Dumbledore bowed his head. "The very same."

"Have you always had it?"

"No, I acquired it very recently," Dumbledore said. "A few days before I came to fetch you from Avalon, in fact."

"That would be around the time you injured your hand, then, sir?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry."

Harry paused. Dumbledore was smiling.

"Why would Voldemort put a Curse of Pestilence on that ring?"

"Too late, Harry! You shall hear the story another time. Good night."

"Good night, sir."

–

"Don' yeh have somethin' better ter do than sit here?"

Hagrid was looking at Harry and Hermione over the back of a massive, chestnut-colored horse with wings. This was an Aethonan breed of winged horses, slightly smaller, but faster, than the Abraxan breed the Beauxbatons school used. Hagrid was brushing the horse using a brush that looked like someone had simply glued a large group of shark teeth to a piece of wood. The horse seemed to be enjoying the brushing, though.

"Hermione needs to get in touch with her spirit animal," Harry said, sitting on the fence behind Hagrid's hut, inside which Hagrid's two Aethonans stood. Hermione was sitting in a meditative position on a blanket on the ground on the other side of the fence, her eyes screwed shut. "What better environment to do so than here?"

Hermione's eyes opened, and she gave off a noise of frustration.

"It's impossible! I just can't find it!" she complained as she stood up, crossing her arms. Harry couldn't help but poke a spot of fun at her.

"Have you tried finding a book?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps your spirit animal is a book on animals?"

Clearly unable to take a joke, Hermione slapped the back of Harry's head, causing him to lose his balance and fall forward, his face impacting with the dirt rather painfully.

"Prat!" Hermione yelled, while Hagrid was roaring with laughter.

Once Harry had gotten up and brushed himself off before sitting up on the fence again, he conjured a piece of wood and a knife, starting to whittle.

"Hey, I've been meanin' ter ask..." Hagrid said suddenly a slightly depressed look visible through his beard. "Professor Grubbly-Plank, was she... was she a better teacher than me?"

Harry immediately scoffed at that, and Hermione, sitting next to Harry, shook her head.

"No, of course not! Anyone can teach, but she didn't have the same love for the animal as you do," she said.

"Not to mention, she only showed us boring creatures, like clabberts and diricrawls..." Harry muttered, shaking his head. "Who the hell cares about diricrawls? They're tiny little birds! They don't even have wings!"

Because of their reassurances to Hagrid that he was the best Creatures teacher, when they headed up to the castle at dusk, he was beaming at them as he waved them off.

"I'm starving," Harry said, once they entered the entrance hall. The smell of roast beef made Harry's stomach ache with hunger as they entered the Great Hall, but they had barely taken three steps toward the Gryffindor table when Professor Slughorn appeared in front of them, blocking their path.

"Harry, Harry, just the man I was hoping to see!" he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly. "I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We're having a little party, just a few rising stars, I've got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin, I don't know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries. And, of course, I hope very much that Miss Granger will favor me by coming, too."

Slughorn made Hermione a little bow as he finished speaking.

"I'd be honored, sir," Harry said with a smile.

"Splendid, splendid! Yes, I'll see you both later!"

With that, Slughorn bustled out of the Hall.

That evening, at seven o'clock, Harry and Hermione were knocking on the door to Slughorn's office. Within moments, it opened, revealing Slughorn.

"Harry, m'boy! Hermione! Come in, come in!" Slughorn boomed, waving them inside.

The two followed him, and were surprised.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. In the very center of the room stood a round table, with several people, including Ginny, McLaggen and Zabini, were already seated.

"Please, sit!" Slughorn said as he gestured for the only two seats, besides his own, that were empty.

Hermione sat down between Ginny and a Slytherin girl he didn't know the name of, and Harry sat down between McLaggen and that Hufflepuff, Melinda Bobbin, a fifth-year witch with jet black hair tied into a tight bun, much like McGonagall, prominent cheek bones, and silvery eyes, much like those of Mr. Ollivander.

"Well, now that everyone is here, dig in everybody!" Slughorn boomed as he clapped his hands. The trays and bowls on the table, once empty, were suddenly filled with food, much like what happened in the Great Hall. Immediately, everyone started piling their plates with food. Harry, who was extremely hungry, immediately went for the bloody steak, no doubt surprising those who knew him, as he had always been one for well-done meat. Apparently, Slughorn had believed the same, as his humming was heard.

"Well now, this is a sight, Harry," he said pleasantly as Harry started cutting up his steak. "Dumbledore told me that you liked your steaks well-done."

"I usually do, sir," Harry said with a smile. "However, I've recently been doing some Animagus training, and joining with your spirit animal tends to alter your tastes."

"Oho! Animagus training?" Slughorn asked, looking delighted. "You certainly weren't lying when you said that you wanted to explore magic. Yes, it is true that your taste alters. In fact, I remember an old student of mine, Anna Farthing. Her spirit animal was a cow, and though she never succeeded in her transformations, she succeeded after the joining, and developed a fondness for grass."

He burst into boisterous laughter, quickly followed by most of the students. Once the laughter had died down, Slughorn turned to Melinda Bobbin.

"And you, Melinda, how is your father? Doing well for himself, I hear?"

"Yes," Melinda said, a hint of shyness in her voice. "He was delighted to hear that you had come out of retirement, sir."

"Well, I should certainly hope so," Slughorn said, "I always liked Patrick, that I did."

"How is it?" the Slytherin girl sitting across from him, next to Hermione, asked. She look every bit like a proper pure-blood. Long, blond hair that went past her shoulders and down under the table so that Harry couldn't see just how long it was, lazy, almost bored eyes and a slightly upturned nose, though nowhere near Pansy Parkinson. "The Animagus training, I mean."

"In a word? Painful," Harry said after swallowing a bite of steak. "I mean, when you meditate and bond with your spirit animal, your body is memorizing every part of the animal, bone structure, physiology, everything. And it changes you, one limb at a time, making your body accustomed to the changes."

The girl, who he later learned was named Hestia Carrow, seemed very interested in learning about Animagus transformations, but Harry refused to tell her too much, repeating Merlin's words of "the greatest knowledge and skill are those you gather yourself."

All in all, the supper wasn't bad. In fact, it was very informative. Slughorn was very well-connected, and that would be helpful for when Harry got older, no doubt.

–

There was no more lessons with Dumbledore for the remainder of September, nor throughout most of October, though there was plenty of suppers with Slughorn, whose delight that he arrived never seemed to vanish.

However, as Harry and Hermione left the Three Broomsticks in the raging snowstorm on the first Hogsmeade weekend on October the nineteenth, something very interesting happened.

As they were trudging through the snow back toward the castle, Harry became away that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were carried back to him on the wind, had become shriller. Harry and Hermione had left the Three Broomsticks right after them and Harry was never going to regret doing so.

Harry squinted at Katie and her friend's indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand. "It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Harry heard Katie say.

They rounded a corner in the lane, sleet coming thick and fast, blurring Harry's glasses. Just as he raised a gloved hand to wipe them, Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding. Katie tugged it back, and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie... Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Harry, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open, but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed, and Leanne started to scream too, seizing Katie's ankles and trying to tug her back to the ground.

Harry's eyes widened, and his hand shot out, pointing at Katie. As if an invisible rope holding her up had been cut, Katie dropped to the ground, where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognize any of them.

Harry rushed forward and knelt next to Katie in the snow with the screaming Leanne.

"Katie! Katie!" Harry yelled as he gave off a pulse of magic. Sensing the source of whatever was infecting her, he grabbed her thrashing hand and tore off her glove, along with his own gloves. He reached out and pressed his fingers against the tip of Katie's finger, closing his eyes.

Leanne was still screaming, as was Katie, as Hermione knelt beside Harry, trying to help.

"Shite!" Harry exclaimed as his eyes shot open. "She's been cursed!" He reached down and covered Katie's eyes with one hand, while holding Katie's spasmodic hand in his other tightly. "Calm," he whispered as his eyes drifted close once more. "Calm down, Katie..."

Slowly but surely, Katie's scream died down, along with her thrashing, although her limbs still twitched every now and then.

"I need to get her to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said, opening his eyes again and scooping Katie up in his arms. "Hermione, bring that necklace," he said nodding toward the package on the ground. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper. "Careful not to touch it, though. Wrap it in your scarf."

Hermione nodded, and Harry took off running toward the castle. Slowly, however, he rose into the air and flew at a speed much faster than his run, probably near his Firebolt's top speed. Within seconds, he saw the gates to Hogwarts. He soared past them and up the road to land on the stone steps of Hogwarts.

"Get that bloody thing away from me!" Harry snapped at Filch as he stepped into the entrance hall. Filch had come shuffling eagerly across the hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "She's been cursed, and I need to get her to the Hospital Wing!"

Without waiting for a response from Filch, Harry ran past him, up the stairs, and straight to the Hospital Wing.

"Potter!" Madam Pomfrey shouted when Harry forcefully kicked open the doors to the Hospital Wing. "What-"

"Katie's been cursed!" Harry cut her off as he rushed inside. Immediately, all traces of indignant anger disappeared from Madam Pomfrey's face.

"Put her on a bed," she ordered, completely serious. Harry complied, finding an empty bed and setting Katie down on it. "Thank you for bringing her here, Potter. You may leave."

Harry nodded, breathing heavily, and slowly left the Hospital Wing, only to sit down on the stone steps right outside. He buried his face in his hand, taking long, deep breaths.

He should have sensed the necklace. For two years now, he had been fine-tuning his Magic Sense, so that it reacted almost automatically when magic that felt off was nearby. It didn't react now... And judging by what Harry sensed when he used his connection with Katie's ring, she had been put under the Imperius Curse as well.

One of his Order members had almost been killed. Harry couldn't help feeling as though he had almost lost a member of his family. Everyone in the Dragon Order had become very dear to him, and he didn't know if he'd be able to bear losing any of them... He couldn't imagine how Dumbledore felt, having lost so many members of his own Order to the Death Eaters...

Harry noticed his glasses getting wet as he stared down at the ground. He took them off and was shocked to see that it was a liquid of some kind that had landed on the inside of the glasses. Slowly, he reached up to his face, and got an even bigger shock when he noticed that he had tears streaming down his cheeks.

He felt so... useless...

–

Harry knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock the following morning, and was told to enter. There sat Dumbledore, looking unusually tired. He smiled at and gestured for Harry to sit down. The Pensieve was sitting on the desk again, casting silvery specks of light over the ceiling.

"You have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I heard you helped Katie after her accident."

"Yes, sir. How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appeared to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: There was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily, your calming effect and Professor Snape's skills were able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse," Dumbledore said. "The St. Mungo's staff is sending me hourly reports, and I am hopeful that Katie will make a full recovery in time."

Harry, who had been standing in front of Dumbledore's desk, had not realized just how tense he was until he heard those words and gave a sigh of relief, sinking into his chair. Dumbledore observed him over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

"Katie is, I believe, one of yours?"

Harry nodded.

"I don't know how you can stand it, sir," he said, sighing heavily. "I mean, Katie wasn't even killed, yet it feels as if she was... What if she really was killed, how would I feel then?"

"There is nothing we can do, Harry," Dumbledore said, leaning forward and smiling, "except hope that you will never have to find out."

"Where were you this weekend, sir?" Harry asked, deciding a change of subject was in order. "Come to think of it, you've been gone a lot lately."

"I would rather not say at this point in time," Dumbledore said. "However, I shall tell you in due course."

"You know, this is a little counter-productive, sir," Harry said with a tired sigh. "If you know or suspect something about Voldemort, why not just come outright and say it? That way, we'll have two heads focusing on one thing, instead of one head thinking and the other guessing."

"I would, Harry, but I believe that it would be even more counter-productive to tell you, only for my guesses to be proven wrong."

"A wrong guess is better than no guesses, sir," Harry countered easily. He didn't want to go through this song and dance again. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. "Please, sir, no more games, no more stalling..."

Dumbledore regarded Harry in silent surprise, as if only just now seeing him clearly for the first time. He sighed.

"Very well, Harry," he said. "I have three more memories I wish to show you. Hopefully, we will be able to squeeze them all into one lesson. After the third memory, I shall tell you what you wish to know."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, nodding. "That means a lot to me."

"Well then!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Let us not dawdle, shall we?" He withdrew a bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorked it. He stood up and walked around the desk to pour the memories into the Pensieve, then began swirling the stone basin between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," Dumbledore said, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace we have just been discussing."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, must as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"_Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, so many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered and rags and pretty far along... Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark alright, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much t was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"_

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," Dumbledore said. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

"But she could do magic," Harry said, scratching his head. "She could have summoned food, couldn't she?"

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief, I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right, that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapper her of her powers. That can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand, even to save her own life."

"She wouldn't even stay alive for her own son?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"

"No," Harry said quickly, "not for Lord Voldemort, the man he became, but for Tom Riddle, the man he could have been."

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, yes, Merope chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. And now, if you will stand..."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

"This time," Dumbledore said, "we are going to enter _my_ memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail, and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry..."

–

"Sit down," Dumbledore said once they had left the memory of Dumbledore's first meeting with young Tom Riddle in the orphanage.

Harry obeyed, deep in thought.

"He was much quicker to accept it than I was," he said, "I mean, when you told him he was a wizard. I didn't believe Hagrid at first."

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe that he was, to use his own word, 'special,'" Dumbledore said.

"Did you know, sir, then?"

"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?" Dumbledore asked, then shook his head. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others' sake as much as his.

"His powers, as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and, most interestingly and ominously of all, he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them, and begun to use them consciously. And as you saw, they were not the random experiments typical of young wizards. He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control. The little stories of the strangled rabbit and the young boy and girl he lured into a cave were most suggestive... '_I can make them hurt if I want to..._'"

"And he was a Parselmouth."

"Yes, indeed, a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good, too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination.

"Time is making fools of us again," Dumbledore said, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, _Tom_?"

Harry nodded.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, notorious. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long.

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that there are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

"And lastly, I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry, the young Tome Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behavior, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later.

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry got to his feet. As he walked across the room, his eyes fell upon the little table on which Marvolo Gaunt's ring had rested last time, but the ring was no longer there.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore said, as Harry had come to a halt.

Harry's fingers twitched, and the sliding of wood against wood was heard as one of Dumbledore's drawers was opened, and the ring soared straight into Harry's waiting hand. He held it up and looked over it.

"This ring... It's another trophy, right?"

"Very astute, Harry."

Harry nodded. The ring soared out of his hand toward Dumbledore, landing on his desk.

"Good night, sir."

"Good night, Harry."

–

Christmas approached fast, and for once, Harry wasn't staying in Hogwarts. He was going to stay in the Burrow with Ron over the Christmas Holiday. Sirius had claimed that he was going to show up almost daily to visit him. So, the day after a very interesting Christmas part at Slughorn's, he arrived at the Burrow, and was now sitting in the Burrow's kitchen, magically peeling a mountain of sprouts for Mrs. Weasley. Snow was drifting past the window in front of him.

"Must feel good," Fred's voice said as the twins entered the kitchen, "to be able to use underage magic."

"Very good, yeah," Harry said with a nod as he leaned back. He was feeling incredibly lazy. He only wanted to go take a nap and nothing else. "Where are you off to?"

"Oh we're off to the village, there's a very pretty girl working in the paper shop who thinks my card tricks are something marvelous... almost like real magic..."

Harry snorted as Mrs. Weasley stepped into the kitchen.

"Fred, George, I'm sorry, dears, but Remus is arriving tonight, so Bill will have to squeeze in with you two."

"No problem," George said.

"Then, as Charlie isn't coming home, that just leaves Harry and Ron in the attic, and if Fleur shares with Ginny-"

"-that'll make Ginny's Christmas-" Fred muttered.

"-everyone should be comfortable. Well, they'll have a bed, anyway," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding slightly harassed.

"Percy definitely not showing his ugly face, then?" Fred asked.

Mrs. Weasley turned away before she answered. "No, he's busy, I expect, at the Ministry."

"Or he's the world's biggest prat," Fred said as Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen. "One of the two. Well, let's get going then, George."

"Have fun, children," Harry said, waving at them. "Try not to blow up the whole village."

"We would never!" George cried indignantly.

"Half, maybe," Fred admitted.

"That way, there are people who can build it up again-" George said.

"-so that we can blow it up again," Fred finished.

Flashing Harry identical grins, the twins left.

The days passed, Christmas Eve came. That night, the Weasleys and their guests were all gathered in the living room, which Ginny had decorated so lavishly that it was kind of like sitting in a paper-chain explosion. Fred, George, Harry and Ron were the only ones who knew that the angel on top of the tree was actually a garden gnome that had bitten Fred on the ankle as he pulled up carrots for Christmas dinner. Stupefied, painted gold, stuffed into a miniature tutu and with small wings glued to its back, it glowered down at them all, the ugliest angel Harry had ever seen, with a large, bald head like a potato, and rather hairy feet.

They were all supposed to be listening to be listening to a Christmas broadcast by Mrs. Weasley's favorite singer, Celestina Warbeck, whose voice was warbling out of the large wooden wireless set. Fleur, who seemed to find Celestina very dull, was talking so loudly in the corner that a scowling Mrs. Weasley kept pointing her wand at the volume control, so that Celestina grew louder and louder. Under cover of a particularly jazzy number called 'A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love,' Fred and George started a game of Exploding Snap with Ginny. Ron kept shooting Bill and Fleur covert looks, as though hoping to pick up tips. Meanwhile, Lupin, Harry and Sirius sat in front of the fire, staring at it in boredom. Well, Harry was sure that Sirius was as bored as he was, but he couldn't quite tell with Lupin, who was thinner and more ragged-looking than ever, and who was staring into the depths of the fire as though he couldn't hear Celestina's voice.

_Oh, come and stir my cauldron,_

_And if you do it right,_

_I'll boil you up some hot, strong love,_

_To keep you warm tonight._

"Wait, what?" Harry said suddenly, hearing those words. "She what? She shouldn't be allowed to sing that, should she?"

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, obviously upset that Harry would be complaining about her favorite song.

"Stir her cauldron?" Harry repeated. "I have a pretty good idea of what she had in mind for a _ladle_." Harry emphasized the word 'ladle' with a rather exaggerated hip-thrust, which caused Sirius to choke on his eggnog, laughing hard.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed indignantly. "That most certainly is not what she meant!"

"That's what it sounded like," Harry defended. Then, he snickered. "And I admit, the song is much better when you look at it that way."

"That was a good one," Sirius snickered, nodding appreciatively. "Thanks for that."

"Blimey, I'm bored!" Harry exclaimed as he stood up. "Come on, Sirius, let's go for a midnight run. I've got a surprise for you."

"Surprise?" Sirius asked, standing up as well. Lupin seemed to snap out of his musings and looked to Harry as well.

"Alright, ready?" Harry asked, noticing that most of the Weasleys were watching him, too. He swiftly turned on the spot, and in a second where had once stood Harry, now stood the black wolf with the almost shining, green eyes.

Sirius's face was immediately lit up with excitement.

"You completed the Animagus training?" he asked with a grin, swiftly turning into the bear-like dog. Unable to speak, Harry merely barked at Sirius, who barked back, adding a growl.

"Oh, 'e is beautiful!" Fleur cried immediately, swooping over to pet Harry. Sadly, Harry had the sensitivity of a wolf, so when the silvery-haired girl started scratching behind his ears, he had no choice but to submit to her ministrations.

–

When Harry got down to breakfast on Christmas Day, he found everyone else already seated. Sirius was nursing a rather nasty bite mark on his neck, coincidentally identical to the set of teeth Harry sported in his wolf form. He didn't feel guilty, though, since his left leg was still aching since Sirius managed to chomp down on his hind leg in their canine brawl the previous night.

"Good morning," he said, waving at the people at the table. He was glad to see that he was not the only one who had foregone wearing the Weasley sweater this morning. Sirius, Lupin, and Fleur didn't wear the sweaters, though Harry suspected that Fleur didn't wear one because Mrs. Weasley hadn't made it for her. Harry had decided to stick with the usual, a tee under his leather jacket. Mrs. Weasley was sporting a brand-new midnight blue witch's hat glittering with what looked like tiny star-like diamonds, and a spectacular golden necklace.

"Fred and George gave them to me! Aren't they beautiful?"

"Well, we find we appreciate you more and more, Mum, now we're washing our own socks," George said, waving an airy hand. "Parsnips, Remus?"

"Gravy, Fleur?" Ron asked, and in his eagerness to help her, he knocked the gravy boat flying. Bill waved his wand and the gravy soared up in the air and returned meekly to the boat.

"You are as bad as zat Tonks," Fleur told Ron once she had finished kissing Bill in thanks. "She is always knocking-"

"I invited dear Tonks to come along today," Mrs. Weasley said, setting down the carrots with unnecessary force and glaring at Fleur. "But she wouldn't come. Have you spoken to her lately, Remus?"

"No, I haven't been in contact with anybody very much," Lupin said. "But Tonks has got her own family to go to, hasn't she?"

Mrs. Weasley hummed. "Maybe. I got the impression she was planning to spend Christmas alone, actually."

She gave Lupin an annoyed look, and Harry immediately picked up on the signs. Tonks' sudden change in personality and looks, Mrs. Weasley's glaring, Lupin's sudden fidgeting. Harry's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. However, Sirius caught his eye and gave him a pointed look, basically telling Harry to stay silent.

"Silence falls over the pack," Sirius whispered silently, like a narrator of a documentary on television. Obviously, Sirius wasn't completely unfamiliar with Muggle technology. "The Matriarch gives the lone wolf an annoyed look. Her annoyance is obvious, as she has had enough to deal with with this new female joining the pack, the mate of her oldest cub..." Mrs. Weasley's annoyed look moved from Lupin to Sirius, who flinched at the attention. Harry decided to pick it up from there.

"Under the threatening glare of the Matriarch, the narrator flees." This comment earned a laugh from the Weasley children and Fleur and Lupin. Sirius, however, slapped the top of Harry's head.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley said suddenly. She had risen from her chair with her hand pressed over her heart as she stared out of the kitchen window. "Arthur, it's Percy!"

"_What_?"

Mr. Weasley looked around. Everybody looked quickly at the window, and Ginny had to stand up for a better look. There, sure enough, was Percy Weasley, striding across the snowy yard, his horn-rimmed glasses glinting in the sunlight. He was not, however, alone.

"Arthur, he's... he's with the Minister!"

And sure enough, the man Harry had seen in the Daily Prophet was following along in Percy's wake, limping slightly, his mane of graying hair and his black cloak flecked with snow.

"Hide me!" Sirius exclaimed as he made to dive under the table. Then, he caught himself, and laughed sheepishly. "Oh right, I'm a free man now."

Before anything else could be said or done, the back door opened, and there stood Percy.

There was a moment's painful silence. Then, Percy said rather stiffly, "Merry Christmas, Mother."

"Oh, _Percy_!" Mrs. Weasley cried as she threw herself into his arms.

Rufus Scrimgeour paused in the doorway, leaning on his walking stick and smiling as he observed this affecting scene.

"You must forgive this intrusion," he said when Mrs. Weasley looked around at him, beaming and wiping her eyes. "Percy and I were in the vicinity, working, you know, and he couldn't resist dropping in and seeing you all."

But Percy showed no sign of wanting to greet any of the rest of the family. He stood, poker-straight and awkward-looking, and stared over everybody else's heads. Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George were all observing him, stony-faced.

"Please, come in, sit down, Minister!" Mrs. Weasley fluttered, straightening her hat. "Have a little purkey, or some tooding... I mean-"

"No, no, my dear Molly," Scrimgeour said, and Harry guessed that he had checked her name with Percy before they entered the house. "I don't want to intrude, wouldn't be here at all if Percy hadn't wanted to see you all so badly..."

"Oh, Perce!" Mrs. Weasley said tearfully, reaching up to kiss him.

"We've only looked in for five minutes, so I'll have a stroll around the yard while you catch up with Percy. No, no, I assure you I don't want to butt in! Well, if anybody cared to show me your charming garden... Ah, that young man's finished, why doesn't he take a stroll with me?"

The atmosphere around the table changed perceptibly. Everybody looked from Scrimgeour to Harry. Nobody seemed to find Scrimgeour's pretense that he didn't know Harry's name convincing, or find it natural that he should be chosen to accompany the Minister around the garden when Ginny, Fleur, and George also had clean plates.

"Smooth, Minister," Harry said with a chuckle as he stood up. "Sir, if you wanted to speak to me, all you had to do was ask."

Scrimgeour seemed pleased to see that Harry had seen through his act and still agreed to speak to him.

"Very well then, Mr. Potter, do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course, Minister," Harry said with a nod, as he walked. Together, he and Scrimgeour went outside.

Harry walked across the yard toward the Weasleys' overgrown, snow-covered garden, Scrimgeour limping slightly at his side. He had, Harry knew, been Head of the Auror office. He looked tough and battle-scarred, very different from portly Fudge in his bowler hat.

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," Scrimgeour said after a few moments. "Did you know that?"

"No," Harry said truthfully.

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you," Scrimgeour said. "Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through... Especially what happened at the Ministry."

"I don't think it's so much mortal danger he's worrying about," Harry said as he looked over the garden, "as it is political danger. I suppose he doesn't wish for you to use me as some sort of poster boy for the Ministry, which is, basically, what you had planned, no?"

"You are as sharp as the rumors say you are, Harry," Scrimgeour said, sounding genuinely impressed. "This speeds this up drastically. The fact is that you are the Chosen One, and-"

"Stop, please," Harry said, putting on a disgusted look as he held up his hand. "I really don't like that name. I prefer Harry."

"I was talking about how the general population sees you," Scrimgeour said pleasantly. "The people believe in you. You are a symbol of hope. You have faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named more times than anyone. The idea that there is somebody out there who is destined to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

"I've had a bad history when it comes to the Ministry," Harry said without looking at Scrimgeour. "I can't pretend that the whole ordeal with Fudge hasn't made me lose faith in it."

"It is only natural that you feel that way. Fudge was-"

"But you're not Fudge," Harry interrupted as he turned to Scrimgeour, giving him a look of complete seriousness. "I have heard about you, Minister. You are said to be a strong wizard, and a great leader. I am willing to give my connection with the Ministry a fresh start. But I'd like to know what you mean by 'stand alongside the Ministry.'"

"Oh, well, nothing onerous, I assure you," Scrimgeour said. "If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, for instance, that would give the right impression. And, of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror. Well, that could be arranged very easily..."

"Does Umbridge still work in the Ministry?" Harry asked, feeling anger bubbling up inside him. Seeing Scrimgeour nod, he said, "Well, I can tell you this... So long as Dolores Umbridge is an employee at the Ministry, I refuse to set a foot inside."

"Why?" Scrimgeour asked. "It would give the people the boost they need, the-"

"Because Umbridge is, in essence, a Death Eater without a Dark Mark. She hates half-breeds, and is very prejudiced against Muggle-borns. If you want me to give the impression that I approve of the Ministry, then I have to actually do so. Keeping people like Umbridge around while chucking innocents like Stan Shunspike into Azkaban is not the kind of behavior I would approve of."

"We are getting desperate," Scrimgeour said. "Even our own employees are starting to lose hope! But if you were to-"

"And if you were to make a few simple changes, changes for the better I might add, then I would gladly tell anybody asking that the Ministry is doing a very good job."

Slowly, Scrimgeour nodded. He seemed to realize that this was the best he'd get from Harry. Then, he asked, "What is Dumbledore up to? Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"Who knows?" Harry asked, shrugging. "Who ever really knows what Dumbledore does?"

"And if you knew, would you tell me?" Scrimgeour asked.

"Not if he asked me not to. Don't be mistaken, Minister," Harry said as he stared straight into Scrimgeour's eyes. "I may have agreed to be your little poster boy, but first and foremost, my allegiance is to the one I owe the most, and that is Dumbledore. I owe him more than you can imagine, after all. Well, I daresay it's been longer than five minutes. They may be starting to miss me inside."

Harry gave Scrimgeour a bow.

"Good-bye, Minister. I hope to see some interesting articles in the Daily Propet soon."

"Good-bye, Harry," the Minister said, looking utterly confused. Perhaps it was the fact that Harry had agreed to be the poster boy for the Ministry, or perhaps it was because of Harry's pledge of allegiance to Dumbledore, but whichever it was, it rendered Scrimgeour frozen in his place, and he simply stared at Harry as he went back into the house.

–

On January the sixth, Harry, who had returned to Hogwarts, stepped into Dumbledore's office. The lamps were lit, the portraits of previous headmasters were snoring gently in their frames, and the Pensieve was ready upon the desk once more.

"I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?" Dumbledore said pleasantly as Harry sat down.

"I did. He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry's doing a good job."

Dumbledore smiled.

"It was Fudge's idea originally, you know. During his last days in office, when he was trying desperately to cling to his post, he sought a meeting with you, hoping that you would give him your support-"

Harry interrupted Dumbledore with a snort. "After everything Fudge did last year? After _Umbridge_?"

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of it, but the idea did not die when he left office. Within hours of Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded that I arrange a meeting with you."

"So that's why you argued," Harry said. "It was in the Daily Prophet."

"The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally," Dumbledore said, "if only accidentally. Yes, that was why we argued. Well, it appears that Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

"I want the Wizarding community to have hope, so I agreed to tell them that the Ministry is doing a good job," Harry said, "but only once they actually _do_ a good job. He also wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts. I told him the truth, that I didn't know, and if I did, and you asked me not to tell, I wouldn't. I told him that first and foremost, my allegiance it to you."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. Behind Harry, Fawkes let out a low, soft, musical cry. To Harry's intense embarrassment, he suddenly realized that Dumbledore's bright blue eyes looked rather watery, and hastily looked down at the Pensieve. When Dumbledore spoke, however, his voice was steady.

"I am very touched, Harry. As for where I go, yes, he is very nosy about that," he said, now sounding cheerful, and Harry felt it was safe to look at his face again. "He has even attempted to have me followed. Amusing, really. He set Dawlish to tail me. It wasn't kind. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once. I did it again with the greatest regret."

"So they still don't know where you go?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore smiled.

"No, they don't. But today, you will know it. I have two more memories to show you this evening, both obtained with enormous difficulty, and the second of them is, I think, the most important I have collected. After the second one, I shall answer all of your questions pertaining to the subject.

"So, we meet this evening to continue the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left last lesson poised on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts. You will remember how excited he was to hear that he was a wizard, that he refused my company on a trip to Diagon Alley, and that I, in turn, warned him against continued thievery when he arrived at school.

"Well, the start of the school year arrived and with it came Tom Riddle, a quiet boy in his secondhand robes, who lined up with the other first years to be sorted. He was placed in Slytherin House almost the moment that the Sortying Hat touched his head," Dumbledore continued, waving his hand toward the shelf over his head where the Sorting Hat sat, ancient and unmoving. "How soon Riddle learned that the famous founder of the House could talk to snakes, I do not know, perhaps that very evening. The knowledge can only have excited him and increased his sense of self-importance.

"However, if he was frightening or impressing his fellow Slytherins with displays of Parseltongue in their common room, no hint of it reached the staff. He showed no sign of outward arrogance of aggression at all. As an unusually talented and very good-looking orphan, he naturally drew attention and sympathy from the staff almost from the moment of his arrival. He seemed polite, quiet, and thirst for knowledge. Nearly all were most favorably impressed by him."

"But didn't you tell them, sir, what he'd been like when you met him at the orphanage?" Harry asked.

"No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance."

"But you didn't _really_ trust him, did you?" Harry asked, remembering the Tom Riddle from the diary. "The Riddle from the diary told me, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.'"

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy," Dumbledore said. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did. I cannot pretend that I gleaned a great deal from my observations at first. He was very guarded with me. He felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity, he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again, but he could not take back what he had let slip in his excitement, nor what Mrs. Cole had confided in me. However, he had the sense never to try and charm me as he charmed so many of my colleagues.

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends. I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection, a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts.

"Rigidly controlled by Riddle, they were never detected in open wrongdoing, although their seven years at Hogwarts were marked by a number of nasty incidents to which they were never satisfactory lined, the most serious of which was, of course, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. As you know, Hagrid was wrongly accused of that crime.

"I have not been able to find many memories of Riddle at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on the Pensieve. "Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him. They are too terrified. What I know, I found out after he had left Hogwarts, after much painstaking effort, after tracing those few who could be tricked into speaking, after searching old records and questioning Muggle and wizard witnesses alike.

"Those whom I could persuade to talk told me that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. This is understandable, of course. He had grown up in an orphanage and naturally wished to know how he came to be there. It seems that he seached in vain for some trace of Tom Riddle senior on the shield in the trophy room, on the lists of prefects in the old school records, even in the books of Wizarding history. Finally, he was forced to accept that his father had never set foot in Hogwarts. I believe that it was then that he dropped the name forever, assumed the identity of Lord Voldemort, and began his investigations into his previously despised mother's family, the woman whom, you will remember, he had thought could not be a witch if she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death.

"All he had to go upon was the single name 'Marvolo,' which he knew from those who ran the orphanage had been his mother's father's name. Finally, after painstaking research through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand..."

Dumbledore rose, and Harry saw that he was again holding a small crystal bottle filled with swirling, pearly memory.

"I was very lucky to collect this," he said as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. "As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?"

–

As the two returned from the memory, Harry felt very confused.

"Is that all?" he asked at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

"Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," Dumbledore said, gesturing Harry back into his seat. "When he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone.

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father.

"The Muggle authorities were perplexed. As far as I am aware, they do not know to this day how the Riddles died, for the Avada Kedavra curse does not usually leave any sign of damage... The exception sits before me," Dumbledore added with a nod to Harry's scar. "The Ministry, on the other hand, knew at once that this was a wizard's murder. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater who had already been imprisoned once for attacking one of the murdered people.

"So the Ministry called upon Morfin. They did not need to question him, to use Veritaserum or Legilimency. He admitted to the murder on the spot, giving details only the murderer would know. He was proud, he said, to have killed the Muggles, had been awaiting his chance all these years. He handed over his wand, which was proved at once to have been used to kill the Riddles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight. All that disturbed him was the fact that his father's ring had disappeared. 'He'll kill me for losing it,' he told his captors over and over again. 'He'll kill me for losing his ring.' And that, apparently, was all he ever said again. He lived out the remainder of his life in Azkaban, lamenting the loss of Marvolo's last heirloom, and his buried beside the prison, alongside the other poor souls who have expired within its walls."

"So, what we can be certain of is that Voldemort probably Stunned his uncle, took his wand, and then murdered his father and grandparents," Harry mused in thought. "He then came back to the Gaunt, er, house, performed a Memory Charm on Morfin, and planted false memories in his head. Then he stole the ring and left."

"Indeed, and Morfin never realized that he had not done it," Dumbledore said. "It took a great deal of skilled Legilimency to coax this memory out of him. I was able to secure a visit to Morfin in the last weeks of his life, by whih time I was attempting to discover as much as I could about Voldemort's past. I extracted this memory with difficulty. When I saw what it contained, I attempted to use it to secure Morfin's release from Azkaban. Before the Ministry reached their decision, however, Morfin died. But it is getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part..."

Dumbledore took another crystal phial from inside his pocket, and Harry immediately straightened up, remembering that Dumbledore had said it was the most important one he had collected. Harry noticed that the contents proved difficult to empty into the Pensieve, as though they had congealed slightly. Could memories expire?

"This will not take long," Dumbledore said once he had finally emptied the phial. "We shall be back before you know it. Once more into the Pensieve, then..."

And Harry fell again through the silver surface, landing this time right in front of a man he recognized at once.

It was a much younger Horace Slughorn. Harry was so used to him bald that he found the sight of Slughorn with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair particularly amusing, and couldn't suppress a chuckle. It looked like he had had his head thatched, though there was already a shiny Galleon-sized bald patch on his crown. His mustache, less massive than it was these days, was gingery-blond. He was not quite as rotund as the Slughorn Harry knew, though the golden buttons on his richly embroidered waistcoat were taking a fair amount of strain. His little feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, he was sitting well back in a comfortable winged armchair, one hand gasping a small glass of wine, the other searching through a box of crystalized pineapple.

Harry looked around as Dumbledore appeared beside him and saw that they were standing in Slughorn's office. Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair. With a jolt, Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo's gold-and-black ring. He had already killed his father at that point.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" he asked.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," Slughorn said, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled, while the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter, thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite..."

As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then, Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, "_You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words._"

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet nobody made any allusion to it, nor did anybody look as though anything unusual had just happened. Harry could guess, though.

Just then, a small golden clock standing on Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" Slughorn said. "You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

Slughorn pulled himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk as the boys filed out. Voldemort, however, stayed behind. Harry could tell that he had dawdled deliberately, wanting to be the last in the room with Slughorn.

"Look sharp, Tome," Slughorn said, turning around and finding him still present. "You don't want to be caught out of bed after hours, and you a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

And if happened all over again. The dense fog filled the room so that Harry couldn't see Slughorn or Voldemort at all, only Dumbledore, smiling serenely beside him. Then, Slughorn's voice boomed out again, just as it had done before.

"_I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again_!"

"Well, that's that," Dumbledore said placidly beside Harry. "Time to go."

And Harry's feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, back onto the rug in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"That's it?" Harry asked, snorting. "That's a pretty low quality falsification."

"Yes, as you noticed, Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why?"

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," Dumbledore said. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you saw, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be out most crucial piece of information of all."

Harry stared at him.

"What's a Horcrux, sir? That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is, Harry," Dumbledore said, moving around his desk and sitting down. "A Horcrux is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

Harry's eyes widened.

"You split your soul and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Even if one's body is destroyed, one cannot die. The split piece of soul remains earthbound and undamaged, preventing one from passing on. Of course, existence in such a form is said to be, to put it lightly, unpleasant," Dumbledore said, and Harry's mind immediately took him back to that night in the graveyard, and Voldemort's words.

"Voldemort created a Horcrux?" Harry asked.

"Ah, that is a question I can definitely answer with complete certainty. Yes, he created a Horcrux," Dumbledore said. "The question I cannot answer with complete certainty is: 'Did Lord Voldemort create more than one?'"

"You can create more?" Harry asked.

"You can, but it is not advised," Dumbledore said gravely. "The soul is split by the ultimate act of evil, committing murder. Killing rip the soul apart. And tearing the soul into two pieces is enough, but more? No, that is not advised at all. The soul is what makes us human, after all."

"And you believe that he created more than one?"

"I believe so, yes. How many, I do not know. That is why I want you to get the memory from Professor Slughorn. It may give us a clue."

"I won't fail you, sir," Harry said immediately, standing up. "I'll get you that memory."

"I am counting on you, Harry. Good luck, and good night."

"Good night, sir."

Harry made to leave, but as he reached the door, he heard Dumbledore call his name, followed by clinking sound, as something sailed through the air. He turned around, and his Seeker reflexes came into play as he caught the object. It was...

"The ring... A Horcrux?"

"Indeed, Harry. I would like you to hold onto that for me. I am afraid I am but a man, and I may succumb to temptation."

With those enigmatic words ringing in his ears, Harry left the office.

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry, guys, this chapter isn't 20,000 words long, but I felt that was a good place to stop the chapter. The next one will be 20,000 words, however.**

**Enjoy!**

–

The following day, Harry confided in Hermione what had transpired in that lesson, and the two tried to come up with a way to get the memory from Slughorn. By the time they were waved into the Potions classroom, they had no plans whatsoever, so Harry had decided that he would just confront Slughorn.

"Settle down, settle down, please!" Slughorn called from the front of the room. "Quickly, now, lots of work to get through this afternoon! Golpalott's Third Law... who can tell me...? But Miss Granger can, of course!

Hermione recited at top speed: "Golpalott's-Third-Law-states-that-the-antidote-for-a-blended-poison-will-be-equal-to-more-than-the-sum-of-the-antidotes-for-each-of-the-separate-components."

"Precisely!" Slughorn beamed. "Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, if we accept Golpalott's Third Law as true..."

Slughorn went into a long-winded explanation of Golpalott's Third Law, which Harry and, he was sure, Hermione already knew by heart. Instead, he kept an eye on the phials in front of Slughorn, studying them and the poisons inside them.

"...and so," Slughorn finished, "I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!"

Harry and Hermione had left their stools and were halfway toward Slughorn's desk before the rest of the class had realized it was time to move. By the time everyone else had reached Slughorn's desk, Hermione had already tipped the contents of her phial into her cauldron and was kindling a fire underneath it. Harry, on the other hand, had taken the time to sniff the contents of his vial before mimicking Hermione.

He cast Scarpin's Revelaspell on the poison in the cauldron. Immediately, the poison in the cauldron split into seven different-colored blobs of liquid. He floated them into the air and decanted each ingredient into seven different crystal phials.

"What did you get?" Harry asked Hermione, who was doing the same. Her poison had split into ten pieces of ingredients.

"I don't know," Hermione muttered. "You?"

"The German Flower," Harry said. That was the nickname of the poison originating from Germany, a poison which clogged up your lungs and airways, slowly choking you to death. Thankfully, this poison was very easy to make an antidote for. In _One Thousand Poisons_, by Amanda Kihl, it said that the German Flower required only one ingredient to nullify it, and another to create the antidote. Smiling to himself, Harry dumped the ingredients into the cauldron again. He then took a single hair from his head and put it in the cauldron. The poison, once pink, turned a powder blue as Harry stirred it. If Kihl was correct, the poison should now have been nullified. And for the antidote...

Harry probably attracted a lot of strange looks as he cleared his throat quite loudly, before spitting a large wad of phlegm into his cauldron, slowly stirring it.

"Two minutes left, everyone!" Slughorn called, and Harry was pleased to see that his antidote was turning red, and the lavender smell of the poison turned into the smell of roses, telling Harry that it was perfect.

"Time's... UP!" Slughorn called genially. "Well, let's see how you've done! Blaise... what have you got for me?"

Slowly, Slughorn moved around he room, examining the various antidotes. Nobody had finished the task, although Hermione was trying to cram a few more ingredients into her bottle before Slughorn reached her. Ron seemed to have given up completely, and was merely trying to avoid breathing in the putrid fumes issuing from his cauldron. Harry stood there waiting, his antidote in a phial.

Slughorn reached their table last. He sniffed Ernie's potion and passed on to Ron's with a grimace. He didn't linger over Ron's cauldron, but backed away swiftly, retching slightly.

"And you, Harry," he said. "What have you got to show me?"

Harry held out the phial, showing his antidote. Slughorn took it and uncorked it, giving it a sniff. Then, he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Oh, very good, m'boy! Very good! Yes, the German Flower is easily counterable by the simple addition of a human hair and mucus! Oh yes, very good, you truly are a lot like your mother. Take twenty points for Gryffindor!"

Harry was pleased to hear the bell ring, as now was the time for him to confront Slughorn.

"Time to pack up!" Slughorn said.

Chuckling and still holding Harry's antidote, he waddled back to his desk at the front of the dungeon.

Harry dawdled behind, taking an inordinate amount of time to do up his bag. Hermione didn't wish him luck as she left, looking rather annoyed. At last, Harry and Slughorn were the only two left in the room.

"Come on, now, Harry, you'll be late for your next lesson," Slughorn said affably, snapping the gold clasps shut on his dragon-skin briefcase.

"Sir," Harry said, reminding himself irresistibly of Voldemort, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, my dear boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn froze. His round face seemed to sink in upon itself. He licked his lips and hoarsely said, "What did you say?"

"I asked you whether you know anything about Horcruxes, sir. You see-"

"Dumbledore put you up to this," Slughorn whispered. His voice had changed completely. It was not genial anymore, but shocked, terrified. He fumbled in his breast pocked and pulled out a handkerchief, mopping his sweating brow. "Dumbledore's shown you that... that memory. Well? Hasn't he?"

"Yes."

"Yes, of course," Slughorn said quietly, still dabbing at his white face. "Of course... well, if you've seen that memory, Harry, you'll know that I don't know anything... _anything_," he repeated the word forcefully, "about Horcruxes."

"That is a lie, sir," Harry said calmly. "I have seen the memory, and even a toddler could tell that it was fake. We need that memory, sir. It is important. I know there's more to the memory-"

"Do you?" Slughorn said. "Then you're wrong, aren't you? WRONG!"

He bellowed the last word and moved to leave the dungeon, but Harry tapped the floor with his walking stick, and the door slammed shut.

"Sir!" Harry called with such intensity that Slughorn jumped and turned to look at him. "Do you not want Voldemort gone?"

"W-What is this? Of course I want him gone!"

"You liked my mother, didn't you, sir?"

"I... I did... Don't think anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her... Very brave... Very funny..." Slughorn seemed happy with this change of subject.

"But you won't help her son," Harry said, seeing Slughorn blink owlishly. "Sir, please! I need that memory. There is no one who is going to fault you for whatever you told Voldemort. No one but Dumbledore and I will know what happened, and neither one of us will judge you for it. I need information in order to destroy Voldemort once and for all. I need to find all of his Horcruxes. Be brave, sir, like my mother..."

By now, Slughorn's eyes were brimming with tears. He looked truly terrified now, and it was with a shaking, pudgy hand that he opened his briefcase, withdrawing Harry's antidote. After closing the briefcase again, he took out his wand and cleared the vial of its contents, then, looking into Harry's eyes, he touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn lowered the it into the phial where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the phial still trembling, and then held it out to Harry.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, taking the phial.

"Please, when you watch it... don't think badly of me... You have no idea what he was like, even back then... I'm not proud of what happened..." Slughorn whispered, wiping his forehead.

"I know what he was like, sir, and let me tell you that being one of the many who got fooled by Tom Riddle isn't something to be proud of, but neither is it something to be ashamed of," Harry said.

Harry headed for the door, which swung open, and when he passed the trembling Slughorn, he put a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you, sir, for trusting me with this."

–

Harry pushed open the door to Dumbledore's office at the headmaster's urging.

"Good day, Harry," Dumbledore said, sitting behind his desk with a smile on his face. "Unless I am very much mistaken, you should be in Transfiguration right now. Not skipping, are you?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Sir, I've got it. I have the memory."

Harry held up the phial and showed it to Dumbledore. For a moment or two, Dumbledore looked stunned. Clearly, he hadn't expected Harry to get the memory within a simple twenty-four hours. Then, his face split in a wide smile.

"Harry, this is spectacular news! Well done! Very well done indeed! I knew you could do it!"

Dumbledore hurried around his desk, took the phial with Slughorn's memory, and strode over to the cabinet where he kept the Pensieve.

"And now," Dumbledore said, placing the stone basin on his desk and emptying the contents of the phial into it. "Now, we shall see. Come, Harry."

Harry bowed obediently over the Pensieve and felt his feet leave the office floor. Once again, he fell through darkness and landed in Horace Slughorn's office many years ago.

There was the much younger Slughorn, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystalized pineapple. And there were the half-dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger much like it did on Harry's own, who had chosen to wear it on his left index finger.

Dumbledore landed beside Harry just as Riddle asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew, I couldn't tell you," Slughorn said, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled, and the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter, thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite..."

Several of the boys tittered again.

"...I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have _excellent_ contacts at the Ministry.

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but they all seemed to look to him as their leader.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.

"Nonsense," Slughorn said briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him looked around. Riddle was still standing there.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed after hours, and you a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this wasn't schoolwork.

"Not exactly, sir," Riddle said. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No... well... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," Slughorn said.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you... sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously... I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could... so I just thought I'd ask..."

"By Merlin, he was a good actor," Harry commented. Next to him, Dumbledore hummed quietly in agreement, apparently giving the memory his utmost attention.

"Well," Slughorn said, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystalized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul."

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," Riddle said.

His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," Slughorn said, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form..."

Slughorn's face crumpled.

"...few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent. His expression was greedy, and he could no longer hide his longing.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," Slughorn said uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil, the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage. He would encase the torn portion-"

"Encase? But how...?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, for I do not know!" Slughorn said, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it, do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," Riddle said quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend..."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," Slughorn said gruffly. "It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things... Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic..."

"Yes, sir," Riddle said. "What I don't understand, though, just out of curiosity, I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven-"

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" Slughorn yelped. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case... bad enough to divide the soul... but to rip it into seven pieces..."

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now. He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was entering into the conversation at all.

"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic..."

"Yes, sir, of course," Riddle said quickly.

"But all the same, Tom... keep it quiet, what I've told you, that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know... Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it..."

"I won't say a word, sir," Riddle said, and he left, but not before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human...

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly. "Let us go..."

When Harry landed back on the office floor, Dumbledore was already sitting down behind his desk. Harry sat as well, waiting for Dumbledore to speak.

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there is still to go..."

"The diary!" Harry said as the answer came to him, snapping his fingers. "The diary was a Horcrux!"

"I am glad to see that you are putting your extraordinary brain to good use," Dumbledore said, and Harry felt that this was another one of those embarrassing moments where he had to avert his eyes. "Yes, the diary. When you handed me the destroyed diary four years ago, I knew that it was certain proof that Voldemort had split his soul. But this raised as many questions as it answered.

"What intrigued and alarmed me most was that that diary had been intended as a weapon as much as a safeguard."

"Opening the Chamber of Secrets, you mean?"

"Exactly. It worked as a Horcrux is supposed to work, in other words, the fragment of soul concealed inside it was kept safe and had undoubtedly played its part in preventing the death of its owner. But there could be no doubt that Riddle really wanted that diary read, wanted the piece of his soul to inhabit or possess somebody else, so that Slytherin's monster would be unleashed again."

"Which is only natural. He didn't want his hard work to be wasted," Harry nodded. "He couldn't take credit back then, but he wanted people to know that he was the heir of Slytherin."

"Quite correct," Dumbledore said, nodding.

"But if he wanted the diary to be passed to, or planted on, some unsuspecting Hogwarts student in the future, then it was obvious that he had made enough of them not to worry too much about a single Horcrux," Harry guessed, raising an eyebrow. "That is what you deduced, right, sir?"

"Indeed it was, Harry," Dumbledore said. He sounded impressed. "Yes, that is the conclusion I made. I did not wish to believe it, but nothing else seemed to make sense. Then, you told me, two years later, that on the night that Voldemort returned to his body, he made a most illuminating and alarming statement to his Death Eaters. 'I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality.' That was what you told me he said. 'Further than anybody.' And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had. Yet it fitted: Lord Voldemort has seemed to grow less human with the passing years, and the transformation he has undergone seemed to me to be only explicable if his soul was mutilated beyond the reals of what we might call 'usual evil...'"

"Then, judging by his words in that memory, he made seven of them?" Harry asked, to which Dumbledore nodded. "The diary, the ring... obviously, they aren't just ordinary objects, but more like objects of value to him..."

"I believe so. But firstly, no, Harry, not seven Horcruxes: six. The seventh part of his soul, however maimed, resides inside his regenerated body. That was the part of him that lived a spectral existence for so many years during his exile. Without that, he has no self at all. That seventh piece of soul will be the last that anybody wishing to kill Voldemort must attack, the piece that lives in his body."

"Do you have any guesses as to what the remaining four Horcruxes are?"

"There were memories I was intending to show you, Harry, but I believe they would merely slow us down at this point. After Tom Riddle left Hogwarts, he took up a job at Borgin & Burkes. On one of his assignments from Mr. Borgin, he met Hepzibah Smith, one of the last descendants of Helga Hufflepuff. In her possession, she had two items that were of extreme value to Tom. She had a gold cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and Slytherin's locket, which she had once bought from Burke."

"So he turned the cup and the locket into Horcruxes?"

"I believe so, yes," Dumbledore said. "I would be prepared to bet, perhaps not my hand, but a couple of fingers, that they became Horcruxes three and four. The remaining two, assuming again that he created a total of six, are more of a problem, but I will hazard a guess that, having secured objects from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, he set out to track down objects owned by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Four objects from the four founders would, I am sure, have exerted a powerful pull over Voldemort's imagination. I cannot answer for whether he ever managed to find anything of Ravenclaw's. I am confident, however, that the only known relic of Gryffindor remains safe."

Dumbledore pointed to the wall behind him, where a ruby-encrusted sword reposed within a glass case.

"I am forced to conclude that he never fulfilled his ambition of collecting four founders' objects. He definitely had two, he may have found three, that is the best we can do for now."

"Even if he got something of Ravenclaw's or of Gryffindor's, that leaves a sixth Horcrux," Harry said. "Unless he got both?"

"I don't think so," Dumbledore said. "I think I know what the sixth Horcrux is. I wonder what you will say when I confess that I have been curious for a while about the behavior of the snake, Nagini?"

"The snake?" Harry asked, startled. "You can use animals as Horcruxes?"

"Well, it is inadvisable to do so," Dumbledore said, "because to confide a part of your soul to something that can think and move for itself is obviously a very risky business. However, if my calculations are correct, Voldemort was still at least one Horcrux short of his goal of six when he entered your parents' house with the intention of killing you.

"He seems to have reserved the process of making Horcruxes for particularly significant deaths. You would certainly have been that. He believed that in killing you, he was destroying the danger the prophecy had outlined. He believed he was making himself invincible. I am sure that he was intending to make his final Horcrux with your death.

"As we know, he failed. After an interval of some years, however, he used Nagini to kill an old Muggle man, and it might then have occurred to him to turn her into his last Horcrux. She underlines the Slytherin connection, which enhances Lord Voldemort's mystique. I think he is perhaps as fond of her as he can be of anything. He certainly likes to keep her close, and he seems to have an unusual amount of control over her, even for a Parselmouth."

"Are you certain he only made six, and not went through what he said in the memory, or seven Horcruxes?"

"Quite certain, yes. He-"

"You're lying, sir," Harry interrupted the headmaster. He had seen something in Dumbledore's eyes, he was sure of it. A hesitance. It was there for only a split second, but he saw it. Then, realization dawned on him. It was so simple, now that he thought about it. Why hadn't he made that connection before?

"His connection with me, sir," Harry said, sighing in resignation, "it's not just a random bit of rare magic, is it?"

Dumbledore looked caught. Then, he sighed.

–

_Harry spent most of the rest of the year alone. He had spent the first week after that meeting in Dumbledore's office feeling depressed. Then, however, he came to the realization that something could be done. Something had to be done. After all, the prophecy wouldn't put so much weight into the fact that one of them must die for the other to live it if was certain that Harry would be the one to die._

_So, his time was spent in the Hogwarts library, the Avalon library, in lessons, and in the Order meetings. Other than that, he didn't spend much time being social. All he did was study old tomes, trying to find any little mention of Horcruxes, or anything similar to them. Sadly, he didn't find anything, not even in Merlin's vast library. Not even Morgan Le Fay would dabble in that Dark a magic, and that was saying something, 'cause she was pretty damn Dark._

_Not very surprising, Harry saw no headlines of changes in the Ministry, received no message of Umbridge ever being fired. This, quite honestly, and you'll have to forgive my language, pissed Harry off._

_June arrived, and Harry received a message from Dumbledore, telling him to come to his office immediately. Once he arrived, Dumbledore told him that he had found another Horcrux. Together, they left Hogwarts, heading down to Hogsmeade, after which Dumbledore side-along Apparated with Harry to the location he had discovered..._

–

When Harry felt his feet touch the ground, he found himself standing in cool darkness, breathing in lungfuls of fresh, salty air. He could hear rushing waves as a light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair. He looked out at moonlit sea and star-strewn sky. He was standing on a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which Harry and Dumbledore were standing, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.

"What do you think?" Dumbledore asked. He might have been asking Harry's opinion on whether it was a good site for a picnic.

"I like it," Harry spoke sarcastically. "Might build a house here..."

Dumbledore chuckled heartily.

"This is where the cave Riddle took those kids is located, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed down. Magic would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorizing them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don't you?"

Harry looked up at the cliff again and felt sorry for the kids.

"But his final destination, and ours, lies a little father on. Come."

Dumbledore beckoned Harry to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent and Dumbledore moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with seawater. Harry could feel flecks of cold salt spray hitting his face.

"Lumos," Dumbledore said as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff face. A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled on the dark surface of the water a few feet below where he crouched. The black wall of rock beside him was illuminated, too.

"You see?" Dumbledore asked quietly, holding his wand a little higher. Harry saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling.

"You will not object to getting a little wet?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Then let us take the plunge."

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held between his teeth. Harry put his walking stick between his teeth and followed.

The water was icy. Harry's waterlogged clothes billowed around him and weighted him down. Taking deep breaths that filled his nostrils with the tang of salt and seaweed, he struck out for the shimmering, shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff.

The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that Harry could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Dumbledore's wand. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left, and Harry saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim in Dumbledore's wake, the tips of his benumbed fingers brushing the rough, wet rock.

Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his silver hair and dark robes gleaming. When Harry reached the spot, he found steps that led into a large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air. Waving a hand over himself, he felt his clothes dry, and a warmth spread in his body.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, his wand held high as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling.

"Yes, this is the place," Dumbledore said. Harry closed his eyes and sent out a pulse of magic, and felt it bounce off a magical signature straight ahead. Dumbledore seemed to have felt his magic probe and nodded at Harry as the two approached the wall of the cave, caressing it with his fingertips and murmuring words in a tongue Harry didn't understand. "This is merely the antechamber, the entrance hall," said finally, after a moment or two, pressing his hand against the wall. "We need to penetrate the inner place... Now it is merely Lord Voldemort's obstacles that stand in our way, rather than those nature made..."

"And we go through here?" Harry asked, gesturing for the wall that Dumbledore was touching.

"Yes, we go on through here. The entrance is concealed."

Dumbledore stepped back from the cave wall and pointed his wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. As soon as it appeared, however, the outline faded away.

After a moment of studying the wall, Dumbledore said, "Oh, surely not. So crude."

"What is it, Professor?"

"I rather think," Dumbledore said, reaching into his robes and drawing out a short silver knife of the kind Harry used to chop potion ingredients, "that we are required to make payment to pass."

"Payment?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Blood, if I am not very much mistaken."

"Blood?" Harry asked in surprise.

"I said it was crude," Dumbledore said, sounding disdainful, even disappointed, as if Voldemort had fallen short of the standards Dumbledore expected. "The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him- or herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

"Not to mention it is horribly overdone," Harry said. Dumbledore turned around to give him a look, and Harry continued, "Much too cliche, isn't it? Why not make it something the enemy could never guess, like... apple sauce?"

Dumbledore just chuckled as he turned back to the wall. He shook back the sleeve of his robes and exposed the forearm of his previously cursed hand.

"Professor!" Harry protested, hurrying forward as Dumbledore raised his knife. "Why not let me do it? I'm younger, and fitter than you."

Dumbledore smiled. There was a flash of silver, and a spurt of scarlet. The rock face was peppered with dark, glistening drops of blood.

"You are very kind, Harry, in your own little way," Dumbledore said, passing his wand over the deep cut he had made in his own arm, so that it healed instantly. "But your blood is worth more than mine. Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn't it?"

The blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time, it didn't fade away. The blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed like total darkness.

"After me, I think," Dumbledore said, and he walked through the archway with Harry on his heels, lighting his now transformed back staff hastily as he went.

An eerie sight met their eyes. They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry couldn't make out the distant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the middle of the lake. It was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the light from Dumbledore's wand and Harry's staff were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety darkness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The darkness was somehow denser than normal darkness.

"Let us walk," Dumbledore said quietly. Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me."

He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry followed close behind him. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. On and on they walked, but the view did not vary. On one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle of which was that mysterious greenish glow. Harry found the place and the silence oppressive, unnerving.

"Professor, are you certain the Horcrux is here?"

"Oh yes," Dumbledore said. "Yes, I'm sure it is. The question is, how do we get to it?"

"I'd suggest a Summoning Charm, but I don't trust Voldemort not to have protected it against that. But it doesn't hurt to try, does it, if only to find out what we're up against?"

"An excellent idea," Dumbledore said, stopping so suddenly that Harry almost walking into him. "Why don't you try it?"

Harry cleared his throat and stretched his arm out toward the greenish glow in the distance. "Accio Horcrux!"

With a noise like an explosion, something very large and pale erupted out of the dark water some twenty feet away. Before Harry could see what it was, it had vanished again with a crashing splash that made great, deep ripples on the mirrored surface.

"What was that?" Harry asked, blinking in surprise.

"Something, I think, that is ready to respond should we attempt to seize the Horcrux."

Harry looked back at the water. The surface of the lake was once more shining black glass. The ripples had vanished unnaturally fast.

"Did you think that would happen, sir?"

"I thought _something_ would happen if we made an obvious attempt to get our hands on the Horcrux. That was a very food idea, Harry, much the simplest way of finding out what we are facing."

"And since Voldemort has shown a tendency not to settle for the singular, I am guessing there is more than one of those things in there."

"I believe so, too. Shall we walk on?"

Harry contemplated as they walked. What was that thing in the water? How dangerous was it? What type of spells did he have against them?

"Aha," Dumbledore said, and he stopped again. Harry almost walked into him again, so deep in thought. "Stand back against the wall, please, Harry. I think I have found the place."

Dumbledore was running his hand, not over the rocky wall, but through the thin air, as if expecting to find and grip something invisible. Harry sent out a pulse of magic, and found, to his astonishment, that there was something there, invisible!

"Oho," Dumbledore said happily, seconds later, as his closed in midair over the invisible shape. Dumbledore moved closer to the water, and Harry watched nervously as the tips of Dumbledore's buckled shoes found the utmost edge of the rock rim. Keeping his hand clenched in midair, Dumbledore raised his wand with the other and tapped his fist with the tip.

Immediately, a thick coppery green chair appeared out of thin air, extending from the depths of the water into Dumbledore's clenched hand. Dumbledore tapped the chain, which began to slide through his fist like a snake, coiling itself on the ground with a clinking sound that echoed noisily off the rock walls, pulling something from the depths of the black water. Harry raised an eyebrow as the ghostly prow of a tiny boat broke the surface, glowing as green as the chain, and floated, with barely a ripple, toward the place on the bank where Harry and Dumbledore stood.

"This boat is safe, right?" Harry asked as the boat hit the bank with a gentle bump. "It doesn't look very stable."

"Oh yes, I think it is quite safe," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort needed to create a means to cross the lake without attracting the wrath of those creatures he had placed within it in case he ever wanted to visit or remove his Horcrux."

"So the things in the water won't do anything to us if we cross in Voldemort's boat?" Harry asked, nodding in appreciation. "Convenient."

"I think we must resign ourselves to the fact that they will, at some point, realize we are not Lord Voldemort. Thus far, however, we have done well. They have allowed us to raise the boat."

"But why have they let us?" Harry asked.

"Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that none but a very great wizard would have been able to find the boat," Dumbledore said. "I think he would have been prepared to risk what was, to his mind, the most unlikely possibility that somebody else would find it, knowing that he had set other obstacles ahead that only he would be able to penetrate. We shall see whether he is right."

Harry looked down into the boat. It really was very small.

"It doesn't look like it was built for two people. Will it hold both of us? Will we be too heavy together?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it."

"But then...?" Harry trailed off, as Dumbledore no doubt already knew what he was going to ask.

"I will sail in the boat," Dumbledore said, "and I would like to ask you to fly above me. I have heard that you are quite proficient at it."

Harry nodded as he slowly rose into the air. Dumbledore looked impressed as he stepped into the boat, coiling the chain onto the floor. The boat began to move. There was no sound, other than the silken rustle of the boat's prow cleaving the water. It moved without Dumbledore's help, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward toward the light in the center. Soon, they could no longer see the walls of the cavern. They might have been at sea except that there were no waves.

Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his stafflight sparkling and glittering on the black water as they passed. The boat was carving deep ripples on the glassy surface, groves in the dark mirror...

And then, Harry saw it, marble white, floating inches below the surface.

"Professor," Harry said as he slowly lowered down by the side of the boat, inches from the water.

"Harry?"

"I saw a hand in the water," Harry said. "A human hand."

"Yes, I am sure you did," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry was about to ask something, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but then he saw it. The stafflight had slid over a fresh patch of water and showed him, this time, a dead man lying face-up inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke. The body was floating directly underneath Harry. They were only a few inches apart.

"These are dead bodies..." Harry mumbled, blinking slowly. "Professor, can he be saved?"

"Voldemort, Harry?" Dumbledore asked placidly. "Are you still thinking about the man he could have been?"

"I am," Harry said with a nod. "This type of existence, his type of existence, alone, feeling superior to everyone around him... That's no way to live. It'll tear him apart inside before the end..."

"That is very admirable of you, Harry," Dumbledore said, sounding pleased. "Very admirable indeed."

They sailed on in silence for a while, Dumbledore watching Harry, who was spinning and flipping in the air while the greenish glow in the distance grew larger, and within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not see at first, but when he raised his illuminated staff, he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the center of the lake. As Dumbledore climbed out of the boat, Harry landed softly on the island, which was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at it. At first, he thought it was a lamp of some sort, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin much like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.

Dumbledore approached the basin as Harry stood by it, examining it. The basin was full of an emerald liquid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

"What is it?" Harry asked quietly.

"I am not sure," Dumbledore said. "Something more worrisome than blood and bodies, however."

Dumbledore pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his hand, and stretched out the tips of his fingers toward the surface of the potion.

"Sir, don't touch-!"

"I cannot touch," Dumbledore said, smiling faintly. "See? I cannot approach any nearer than this. You try."

Staring, Harry put his hand into the basin and attempted to touch the potion. He met an invisible barrier that prevented him from coming within an inch of it. No matter how hard he pushed, his fingers encountered nothing but what seemed to be solid and inflexible air.

"Out of the way, please, Harry," Dumbledore said. He raised his wand and made complicated movements over the surface of the potion, murmuring soundlessly. Nothing happened, except perhaps that the potion glowed a little brighter. Harry remained silent while Dumbledore worked, but after a while Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and Harry felt it was safe to talk again.

"You think the Horcrux is in there, sir?"

"Oh yes." Dumbledore peered more closely into the basin. Harry saw his face reflected, upside down, in the smooth surface of the green potion. "But how to reach it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, Vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature."

Almost absentmindedly, Dumbledore raised his wand again, twirled it once in midair, and then caught the crystal goblet that he had conjured out of nowhere.

"I can only conclude that this potion is supposed to be drunk."

"What?" Harry asked. "No!"

"Yes, I think so: Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."

Harry sighed and pressed his palm against his forehead. Dumbledore noticed this and looked at him curiously.

"Did you have another idea, Harry?"

"I do, sir," Harry said as he patted the pedestal. "Basically, what we have here is a glass of water standing on a table. We want the water gone, but we cannot tip the glass, nor smash it. The only proper thing to do would be to simply break the table."

For the third time since Harry first met him, he seemed to have stunned Dumbledore into silence. Then, after a moment, he laughed softly, a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, Harry, sometimes the old are so focused on the big and intricate, that we forget about the small and simple things," he said, sounding, once more, impressed. "Very well, Harry, how do you think we should go about this?"

Harry shrugged, then twirled his staff. He pressed the lit orb against the base of the pedestal and focused.

"Bombarda," he whispered, and with a boom that echoed loudly through the cave, the base of the pedestal shattered. The pedestal tipped over, and as it crashed into the stone surface beneath it, the contents of the basin spilled out over it, along with something gold. Dumbledore pointed his wand, and a shining gold locket soared into his waiting hand.

"See?" Harry asked Dumbledore, and he couldn't help but sound a little smug. Dumbledore hummed in approval as he inspected the locket.

"Very good, Harry, very good," Dumbledore said and pocketed the locket. "Now, however, it would appear that we have another problem."

He pointed toward the water. It was no longer still and mirror-smooth. It was churning, and everywhere Harry looked, white heads and hands were emerging from the dark water, men and women and children with sunken, sightless eyes were moving toward the rock, an army of the dead rising from the black water.

"Fire, Harry," Dumbledore said, and Harry nodded.

Harry brought his empty hand to his mouth, while Dumbledore raised his wand. Once more, Harry cast Fiendfyre the same way he had cast it against Voldemort. Now, however, it was different. The fire dragon that exploded out of Harry's hand wasn't simply shaped as the head of a Hungarian Horntail. It was the exact same shape as a whole Hungarian Horntail, only very downsized. It was about ten feet long, and circled around Harry and Dumbledore, beating its massive wings and snorting fire at the Inferi, who slipping back into the water as it passed them.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore flicked his wand once, and a massive crimson and gold fire erupted from it as he held it like a torch. The fire spread, forming a ring that surrounded the rock so that the Inferi that had climbed up on the rock stumbled and faltered. They didn't dare pass through the flame to get to the water.

Harry rose into the air as Dumbledore headed back to the boat, the ring of fire and Fiendfyre dragon following them. Distracted by the flames, the Inferi seemed unaware that their quarry was leaving, and around the two, the bewildered Inferi were accompanying them to the water's edge, where they slipped gratefully back into their dark waters.

Once Dumbledore was safely inside the boat again, and Harry was drifting through the air above him, it began to move back across the black water, away from the rock, still encircled by that ring of fire, and it seemed that the Inferi swarming below them didn't dare resurface.

They reached the bank with a little bump. The moment that Dumbledore stepped out of the boat, he let his wand hand fall. The ring of fire vanished, but the fire dragon was still flying next to the bank, snorting fire into the water to scare away any Inferi that may have been trying to emerge. The little boat sank into the water once more, clanking and tinkling, and its chain slithered back into the lake, too.

"You have gotten better at controlling Fiendfyre, I see," Dumbledore said conversationally as the two moved around the lake.

"This is as big as I can make it before it gets hard to control," Harry said.

"Understandable. Fire is, after all, the most wild and untamed of the elements. Well, here we are."

They had reached the smooth rock wall where they had entered. The archway had been sealed again, and Dumbledore once more took out his silver knife. With a quick flash of silver, the stone was spattered with blood. Having received its tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly. They crossed the outer cave, and behind them, the Fiendfyre vanished.

–

With a sharp _CRACK_ Harry and Dumbledore appeared on the High Street of Hogsmeade, both looking pleased with themselves. Harry stretched lazily.

"Well, that's one Horcrux down, three to go. Now, however, I'd like some sleep," he said, to which Dumbledore nodded.

"Agreed. I think today has been quite eventful enough."

The two were about to walk, but suddenly heard running footsteps. They turned, and saw Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the dark street toward them on high-heeled, fluffy slippers, wearing a silk dressing gown embroidered with dragons.

"I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to do!"

She came to a halt in front of them, panting.

"What appears to be the problem, Rosmerta?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"What, you... Haven't you seen...?"

"What has happened?" Dumbledore asked. "Rosmerta, what's wrong?"

"The... the Dark Mark, Albus!"

And she pointed into the sky, in the direction of Hogwarts. Harry, a feeling of dread flooding him, turned and looked.

There it was, hanging in the sky above the school. The blazing green skull with a serpent tongue, the mark Death Eaters left behind whenever they had entered a building... wherever they had murdered..."

"When did it appear?" Dumbledore asked, all traces of tiredness, mirth and playfulness gone from his face.

"Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out, but when I got upstairs-"

"We need to return to the castle at once," Dumbledore said. "Rosmerta, please send a message to the Ministry. It might be that nobody within Hogwarts has yet realized anything is wrong... Harry, would you mind...?"

Harry, understanding, nodded as he grabbed Dumbledore's arm, slinging it over his shoulder. Then, he wrapped his other arm, holding the staff, around Dumbledore's abdomen, and then shot off. As they sped toward the castle, Harry glanced sideways at Dumbledore, whose eyes were fixed upon the Dark Mark, his long silver hair flying behind him in the night air.

As they flew over the dark, twisting lane down which they had walked earlier, Harry heard, over the whistling of the night air in his ears, Dumbledore muttering in some strange language again. He thought he understood why he felt a shudder go through his body when they flew over the boundary wall into the grounds. Dumbledore was undoing the enchantments he himself had set around the castle so they could enter at speed. The Dark Mark was glittering directly above the Astronomy Tower. Did that mean the death had occurred there?

When they landed on the crenelated ramparts, they found it deserted. The door to the spiral staircase that led back into the castle was closed. There was no sign of a struggle, of a fight to the death, of a body...

"No death, then," Harry said as he surveyed the scene. "Was it... a distraction?"

Dumbledore was silent as he, too, looked around. Then, they heard running footsteps from the door leading to the spiral staircase. Harry spun around and jabbed his staff toward the door just as it burst open, only to abruptly close again, slamming painfully into the nose of whoever had come. With a jerk of his staff, the door flew open and a figure shot through the doorway, sliding along the ground face-down, to come to a stop at Harry's feet. His wand flew out of the person's grip and soared into Harry's waiting hand.

"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore said pleasantly. Harry moved his staff again, and Malfoy was flipped upon his back, staring fearfully up at the two of them. "What brings you up here at this time of night?"

Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it again. Harry saw that he was trembling.

"There's fighting going on in the castle, sir," Harry told Dumbledore after sending out a pulse of magic. "Death Eaters, I think. I recognize Bellatrix's signature."

"Well, well," Dumbledore said, looking down at Malfoy, as though he had just been show an ambitious homework project. "You found a way to let them in, did you?"

"Y-Yeah," Malfoy said, and this seemed to give him at least some courage. "Right under your nose and you never realized!"

"Well then," Dumbledore said and looked to Harry, "I believe it would be best if you go down there and take care of them, Harry."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a nod, handing Malfoy's wand to Dumbledore, before moving over to the staircase. Calmly, collecting himself, he descended the stairs. The sounds of fighting reached his ears, and for every step down he took, they grew stronger. Slowly, he started speeding up his descent, and leapt down the last ten steps, stopping where he landed, his staff raised.

The dimply lit corridor was completely empty, but he could see flashes of light at the end of it.

As soon as Harry took a step toward the end of the corridor, a man in black robes passed the corner, sprinting toward him. It was a Death Eater, who skidded to a halt when he saw Harry.

"Potter!" he exclaimed as five others rounded the same corner, all of them halting in the same spot. Among them was Bellatrix Lestrange, whose eyes bulged out of their sockets when she spotted him.

"Enjoying your stay in the castle, are you?" Harry asked pleasantly. "I hope you did, for you won't be staying."

At once, the Death Eaters raised their wands, and Harry tapped the floor with his staff. The stone plates covering the floor loosened and flew up, intercepting the five Killing Curses sent at him, shattering them on impact. These Death Eaters were so predictable... Harry cast a Protego, erecting a shield that deflected a chain of other spells thrown at him, with his hand, then jabbed his staff out toward the Death Eaters.

A pulse of magic sent them flying back, but someone came from behind them, jumping over them and flying at Harry. He was a big, rangy man with matted gray hair and whiskers, whose black Death Eater's robes looked uncomfortably tight. His long, yellowish nails were ready to tear Harry to pieces, and the man had blood around his mouth, which was trickling down his chin. Fenrir Greyback...

Harry swung his staff, and the gong-like sound was heard. As if he had been kicked, Fenrir's head flew back, completely stopping him in his dive toward Harry, and instead flung him backwards, landing hard on one of the downed Death Eaters.

"Your master couldn't kill me, Bellatrix, what makes you think you can do it?" Harry asked with a smirk as the Death Eaters scrambled to stand. Harry swung his staff down, slamming a layer of compressed magic down on the Death Eaters, pressing them against the ground.

"Alright, I managed to block-" anther Death Eater called as he rounded the corner, stopping when he saw Harry pinning his comrades to the floor. He raised his wand. "Avada-"

"Expelliarmus!"

There was a flash of light, and Harry found himself holding the Death Eater's wand. Before Harry could restrain the Death Eaters, however, before he even had a chance to say a single gloating word, he had to spin around, conjuring a shield to block a red Stunner that had headed for his unprotected back. He found himself staring straight into the cold, black eyes of Severus Snape.

Another Stunner flew at Harry, who dodged and sent a Stunner right back at Snape.

Snape erected a shield, deflecting it.

"The plan has failed! Flee!" Snape called to the other Death Eaters, and only then did Harry remember that he had let go of his hold on them in order to focus on Snape.

Harry ducked under a handful of spells flying at him and fired a Stunner behind him. Judging by the thud, he hit someone, but he didn't have time to look. Instead, he put up a shield behind him and fired another Stunner at Snape. Snape merely moved out of the way of the spell, then broke out into the run along with the other Death Eaters, who rushed past Harry.

Harry suppressed a growl of frustration as he watched the retreating backs of the Death Eaters. He swiped his staff, and was pleased to see chains materialize out of thin air, wrapping around the ankles of the two Death Eaters closest to him. The Death Eaters fell, and were immediately knocked out by a Stunner each from Harry.

I'll let them go, Harry thought as he watched Bellatrix's cloak disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor. This way, it will have looked like Snape rescued them. That works nicely.

Despite what he made people believe, Harry trusted Snape, simply because Dumbledore trusted him. Dumbledore may show a lot of trust in people, but he didn't trust without reason, and if he could trust Snape to be his spy with Voldemort, and not the other way around, he had to have had a big reason for it.

–

Harry and Dumbledore walked into the hospital wing, and immediately, Harry saw Neville lying, apparently asleep, in a bed near the door. Hermione, Luna, Tonks, Ron, Ginny, and Lupin were gathered around another bed near the far end of the ward. At the sound of the doors opening, they all looked up. Hermione ran to Harry and hugged him. Lupin moved forward too, looking anxious.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry said with a nod. "How's Bill?"

Nobody answered. Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill's pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment.

"Greyback?" Harry asked, seeing the others nod solemnly.

"He appears to have started attacking people even without the full moon," Dumbledore said as the two of them walked up to the bed with Hermione and Lupin.

"But he wasn't bitten at at the full moon," Ron said, gazing down into his brother's face as if he could somehow force him to mend just by staring. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a... a real..."

He looked uncertainly at Lupin.

"No, I don't think that Bill will be a true werewolf," Lupin said, "but that does not mean that there won't be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely to ever heal fully, and... and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on."

"But you must know something that'd work, though, sir?" Ron asked Dumbledore. "Bill fought those maniacs on your orders, you owe him, you can't leave him in this state-"

"Ron," Harry interrupted with a harsh stare at Ron, who shut up immediately. Harry nodded toward Dumbledore, who was looking solemnly down at Bill. Harry could understand how he felt, what with Katie and all.

"Alas, there is no known cure for wounds inflicted with Dark magic, especially with werewolf bites," Dumbledore said quietly.

"He'll heal," Harry said. "He'll have a couple of nasty scars, but he'll heal." Then, he remembered something. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I've got Greyback upstairs."

"WHAT?" came the shocked question in eerie unison, and Harry was met with shocked stairs. Lupin looked especially unbelieving.

"Hit him with a Stunner," Harry said, smiling. "I have wrapped him up as tightly as I can. He won't escape."

Harry felt Lupin patting him on the shoulder and Lupin, who had been turned by Greyback, look extremely grateful. So grateful, even, that he seemed unable to form words. Instead, he just hugged Harry.

Just then, the answer came to Harry, and he snapped his fingers, breaking the hug with Lupin.

"Fawkes!" he called, and in a flash of flame, the phoenix appeared in the air above him, perching himself on Harry's shoulder. Harry smiled and petted the phoenix. "Fawkes, can you cry for Bill? Please?"

Fawkes gave off a musical thrill that left Harry feeling warm inside and soared over to the bed. He landed on Bill's pillow and leaned down. A single glittery tear escapes his eye and rolled down his feathered cheek. It fell off Fawkes's face and landed on Bill's face. Before their eyes, the wounds on Bill's face closed miraculously fast. It left long, nasty scars on his face, but the wounds were closed.

Dumbledore hummed as he watched the scene.

"Harry... I am beginning to believe that Fawkes may like you more than he does me," he commented lightly.

"Jealous, sir?"

"A tad, yes. He never cries on demand for me."

The two chuckled softly as they sat down and waited. Hopefully, McGonagall would turn up and take over, allowing them to retreat to Dumbledore's office with the locket.

"Hey, where's Sirius?" Harry asked suddenly, blinking.

"Oh, he's down at the Hog's Head, sulking," Lupin said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "His shift to patrol the school wouldn't arrive for another hour, so he was at home sleeping. He's very upset that he missed out on all the fighting."

Harry laughed, and just then, the doors of the hospital wing burst open, making them all jump. Fawkes gave off an annoyed noise as he flew into the air to perch himself in Harry's lap instead, seeming to glare at the new arrivals. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were striding up the ward, Fleur just behind them, her beautiful face terrified. McGonagall was hurrying behind, looking winded.

"Molly, Arthur," Dumbledore said, hurrying to greet them. "Just remain-"

"Bill," Mrs. Weasley whispered, darting past Dumbledore as she caught sight of Bill's scarred face. "Oh, _Bill_!"

Lupin and Tonks had got up hastily and retreated so that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could get nearer to the bed. Mrs. Weasley bent over her son and pressed her lips to his forehead, which was covered in dried blood.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, looking to McGonagall. "We shall leave everything to you. For now, Harry and I have something to take care of in my office."

"Of course, Albus," McGonagall said with a stiff nod.

Fawkes gave a thrill and soared into the air, hovering above Harry and Dumbledore. They reached up and grabbed one of Fawkes's legs each, and in a flash of flame were gone from the hospital wing.

They reappeared inside Dumbledore's office, where Dumbledore immediately strode around his desk and sat down, taking the locket out of his robes.

"This locket is fake, Harry," Dumbledore said immediately. Harry felt his eyes widen in surprise. "I saw it the moment it fell out of the basin in the cave. Observe," he said and held up the locket.

Upon closer inspection, Harry found that Dumbledore was right. This was neither as large as the locket he had seen in the Pensieve, nor were there any markings on it, no sign of the ornate S that was supposed to be Slytherin's mark. Dumbledore fiddled with the locket, and it opened with a click. Inside it was a scrap of folded parchment, wedged tightly into the place where a portrait should have been. He took it out and read it out loud.

_To the Dark Lord,_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this_

_but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret._

_I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,_

_you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

"Great..." Harry muttered with a tired sigh, shaking his head. "So we went through all that trouble, and someone had already been there before us?"

"It would certainly appear so," Dumbledore said, placing the locket and the parchment on the desk in front of him. "The question that remains is... if this R.A.B. character was successful in stealing the Horcrux, was he equally successful in destroying it? And if he was not, where is the Horcrux now?"

Harry was quiet, thinking hard. Then, he looked at Dumbledore.

"Will you be taking care of it, sir?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore said with a nod. "You can leave it to me, Harry."

"Is everything ready?"

"I have had everything you need brought here to my office. I wish for you to take Fawkes as well. It would be prudent for us to have a method of communication."

Before Harry could respond to Dumbledore's request, a sharp voice spoke from high on the wall: A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe had just walked back into his empty canvas.

"Albus, the Minister will be here within seconds, he has just Disapparated from the Ministry."

"Thank you, Everard," Dumbledore said, nodding. Then, he looked at Harry. "You should go, Harry."

"I will, Professor," Harry said. He looked to Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch. Fawkes flew over and landed on Harry's shoulder. "Good-bye, sir."

"Good-bye, Harry. And good luck."

Harry moved over to the cabinet where Dumbledore stored his Pensieve. Next to it lay a beige cloth bag. Harry picked it up and looked up at Fawkes, about to tell him that it was time to go, when Dumbledore said, "Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, looking back to Dumbledore, who smiled at him, eyes twinkling.

"Please, do call me Albus. I find that much too few people see fit to do so."

"Will do, si- Albus," Harry corrected himself, smiling at his teacher. Then, in a flash of flame, he was gone.

Sitting alone in his office, Dumbledore smiled to himself as he looked down at the locket.

"You can do it, Harry," he said quietly into the silence. "If anyone can, it is you."

"Dumbledore, what is it that gives you this unwavering faith in the boy?" Phineas Nigellus spoke from his picture on the wall of the office. "Is it this whole Chosen business? The Boy-Who-Lived rubbish? What?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, smiling fondly to himself.

"No, that is not it at all, Phineas. Purely and simply, it is because he is himself. He is Harry Potter."

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	10. Chapter 10

**I am back with another 20,000 word chapter! Woo! Yay me! Review to show your devotion to my greatness!**

**Enjoy!**

–

_**WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?**_

_**The Chosen One missing!**_

_It has been five months since a great battle was reported to have taken_

_place at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, in which the Chos-_

_en One captured the ferocious werewolf Fenrir Greyback and the two De-_

_ath Eaters Amycus and Alecto Carrow. After that night, Harry Potter disa-_

_ppeared without a trace. Where he has gone, no one knows, but what is_

_known, however, is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named seems to have va-_

_nished without a trace as well. Death Eater attacks are at an all-time low,_

_and sources tells us that there has been a lot of Death Eater activity over-_

_seas, mostly in Germany, France and Denmark. Perhaps the Chosen One_

_knew of these changes in He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's plans, and has_

_decided to hunt them all down? This remains to be seen. What is certain,_

_however, is that we hope you are out there, Harry, and we pray for your_

_success._

–

The cell was dark, much too dark at night. There were no lights that could illuminate the room, save to the sliver of moonlight entering through the small slit in the black wall that was supposed to pass for a window. The ceiling, floor and walls were all made of black stone, and it was furnished only with a hard cot and a chamberpot.

On the bed sat a frail old man, thin and weak. His head was bald, but on his skull of a face he had a long, gray beard that reached all the way down to his waist. A noise from outside caused the mans head to lift curiously, and he looked to the thick steel door as a slot was opened in it, the same slot the guards pushed his food into each day.

"Rise and shine, old man," a voice spoke in German. "You have a visitor."

The door opened, allowing the light from the torches in the black corridor outside to shine into the cell. The sudden light surprised the man, who covered his face with his hand, giving a grunt of discomfort as someone stepped into the cell, a gentle tapping noise echoing with every other foot step.

The sound of the door closing allowed the man to open his eyes again, as the light disappeared once more. Standing in front of him was a young man, hardly older than seventeen. He was tall and well-built for his age, probably ran regularly. Adorning his youthful face was a pair of glasses in front of a pair of eyes of the deepest green he had ever seen, and on his hair was black, wild and untamed. The man wondered whether the boy would ever be able to make anything of that hair. Probably not.

"Gellert Grindelwald?" the young man asked pleasantly in English, leaning on his walking stick. The knob of the walking stick was in the form of a golden lion's head with it's maw open in a roar.

"Who is asking?" the prisoner asked in a weak voice, suggesting that he hadn't spoken in a very long time.

"Forgive me," the young man said as he waved his hand. A wooden chair materialized out of thin air behind him, and he sat down with a smile on his face. "My name is Harry Potter, I'm from England."

"I never would have guessed," Grindelwald croaked sarcastically. Harry chuckled in amusement. "I suppose you are one of Albus's, then?"

"Indeed I am," Harry said with a nod. "I have a few questions for you that I hope you can answer, learned as you are in the ways of magic and its history."

"Why not ask Albus?" Grindelwald asked curiously. "I would have thought he would be perfect to ask."

"I try to stay away from England for the time being. In any case, he doesn't know what I want to know," Harry said, shrugging.

"Well then, Mr. Potter," Grindelwald said. He weakly pushed himself up from a slouching position to a sitting position. "Ask away. Whether I will answer or not is another question entirely."

"Have you ever heard of the Primes of Merlin, Mr. Grindelwald?" Harry asked. He smiled wider when he saw Grindelwald's eyes widen in surprise.

"Indeed I have, but they have been dead for a long time," Grindelwald said.

"How many have you heard about?"

"I know, so far, that there have been seven of them."

"Then you are more knowledgeable in that regard than Dumbledore, who had only heard of five," Harry said as he leaned back in his chair. "It is my belief that the Seventh Prime of Merlin may somehow still be alive. Seeing as you have heard of the Seventh, perhaps you also know where he was last seen?"

"And why would I tell you this?" Grindelwald croaked with a laugh. Most of his teeth were gone. "You cannot just come here and expect me to tell you simply because you asked."

"Come now, Mr. Grindelwald, I am being very polite here," Harry said with a chuckle. "I could simply use my great skill in Legilimency and rip the information from your mind, you know."

Grindelwald laughed again.

"Doubtful, boy, very doubtful. You are one of Albus's. You respect people's privacy, and you would never mind rape me like that."

Harry had to concede at that point. It was, after all, merely an empty threat. He had been hoping, however, that Grindelwald wouldn't know that.

"Hm, too true," Harry admitted. He was silent for a while. Then, he said, "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" Grindelwald asked, raising an eyebrow. "The things I have done that I could regret are enough to fill eight rolls of parchment, I'm afraid. You will have to be more specific."

"Well, all of it, simply put."

"Do I regret wishing to put wizards in their rightful place, not hiding like cockroaches, no. Do I regret using Albus the way I did, yes. Do I regret what happened to Ariana, definitely. Do I-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted. "Ariana?"

"Ariana Dumbledore, of course," Grindelwald said, as if it was obvious. Then, when he saw the confused look on Harry's face, his own face lit up with amusement. "Wait, do you mean to tell me that Albus has not revealed the darker aspects of his past to you?"

"He has not," Harry admitted, feeling very left out. "But you obviously do. Care to share, Mr. Grindelwald?"

"Oh, I will share, my boy," Grindelwald said with a smile. "I will tell you all you could possibly wish to know about Albus Dumbledore."

Harry sat attentive, listening.

"When I first met Albus, he had just finished his NEWTs, I think," Grindelwald croaked. "He fell in love with me at first sight, he did, which made him all the more easier to manipulate for me."

"Fell in love?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. Grindelwald nodded.

"I believe that it was my skill that did it. My skill and my power, an equal to Albus, who could find none where he came from. He was above the rest, in a class of his own. We were brought together by our search for the Deathly Hallows."

"The Deathly Hallows?"

"Three items," Grindelwald said, nodding. "Three items of extraordinary power. The story of the Hallows can be found in The Tales of Beedle the Bard. The story goes that hundreds of years ago, the three Peverell brothers were traveling at twilight, and reached a river too dangerous to traverse. The three brothers, being very powerful wizards, simply created a bridge across the river. They were then stopped by Death himself, who was displeased that they had gotten across the river, thus cheating him out of new victims.

"Death then congratulated them on being clever enough to evade him, and offered each of them a powerful magical item. The first brother, Antioch Peverell, wished to become invincible in duels. Death broke a branch off a nearby tree and created for him the Elder Wand, a wand more powerful than any other in existence. The second brother, Cadmus Peverell, wished to resurrect his lost love, so Death then took a stone from the riverbed and created for him the Resurrection Stone, a stone capable of bringing the dead back to the living world. The third brother, Ignotus Peverell, realized the danger of the situation and requested a means by which Death could not find him, and so Death grudgingly gave him the cloak off his back, the Cloak of Invisibility, an invisibility cloak that never lost its power through curses or age."

Harry hummed in thought. Those sounded like pretty powerful items.

"The mark of the Deathly Hallows is the crest of the Peverell family. It is a circle on top of a vertical line, enclosed in a triangle." This made Harry's eyes widen, and Grindelwald smiled a toothless smile. "Yes, Mr. Potter, the very same mark that is on that ring of yours."

Harry looked down at the ring he had been given by Dumbledore, the gold-and-black ring that had once belonged to the Gaunt family.

"I advise you not to use it, however, for it does not bring back the dead. It merely brings back an echo of the dead, which is miserable here, in the land of the living, for they do not belong here. That echo, the echo of his miserable lost love, caused Cadmus Peverell to kill himself from grief to finally join her, and so Death claimed his price."

"I had no intention of using it," Harry said, still looking at the ring. "But thank you for the warning."

"You are welcome," Grindelwald said and hummed. "Then we have the Elder Wand, known also as the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, the Eldruhn Wand, and the Ellhorn Wand, which is said to be the most powerful wand that has ever existed. It was said that it had never been beaten in a duel. Antioch Peverell was pleased about this, so he dueled a wizard he had earlier had a quarrel with to the death.

"That night, a stranger came into his room at the inn where he stayed the night, and slit Antioch's throat in his sleep, taking the wand for himself, and so Death claimed his second prize. After that, the wand was passed on through murder, each one more gruesome than the next, mostly. As for the rumor that it cannot be defeated in a duel, well... here I am, and Albus still walks around healthy as ever."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, his eyes wide in surprise. "Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?"

"Disarmed me in our duel after he defeated me. Like I said earlier, he was in a class all of his own. Even with the Elder Wand in my possession, I could not beat him... I had previously stolen it from the wand maker, Gregorovich."

Grindelwald sighed, a somewhat nostalgic look appearing on his face. He was silent for a few minutes, seemingly reminiscing.

"And Ignotus?" Harry prodded curiously. "What happened to him?"

"Oh, he managed to evade Death his whole life, safely hidden under his cloak. No matter where Death looked, he could not find him, until Ignotus finally, having reached old age, passed it on to his son, and greeted Death like an old friend, and together they left for the afterlife, as equals. I believe that you are in possession of the cloak, Mr. Potter."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, the last I heard, a young man named Charlus Potter was in possession of the cloak. I imagine he was a relative of yours, and you are a direct descendant of Ignotus. That makes it two Hallows in your possession, more than I have ever had, yet you are still missing the final one, the strongest one, if you wish to become Master of Death."

"I have no intention of becoming Master of Death," Harry said immediately, feeling disgusted. "Death is a natural part of life. Death is one of the few constants in this universe, and we can never hope to control it."

A somewhat crooked smirk appeared on Grindelwald's face, showing a slightly mocking look of amusement.

"Spoken like a true student of Albus's," he said. "Well, I suppose it was not the Hallows we were supposed to be talking about. It was Albus, was it not?"

"That it was," Harry said with a nod.

"Well, I first met Albus in Godric's Hollow. I had gone there to stay with my great-aunt, Bathilda Bagshot. I came there to examine the grave of Ignotus Peverell, who had been laid to rest there. We became united by our ambitions for glory and plans to bring about a new world order, in which wizards would rule over Muggles. We shared a passion for the Deathly Hallows, although, I suspect, for different reasons. Albus actually helped me coin the phrase that became my slogan during my little war," Grindelwald said.

"For the Greater Good," Harry recited, and Grindelwald nodded.

"We became extremely close, even to the point where I think Albus started feeling some romantic attraction to me, as I said before. I became aware of this quickly, and I used it to my advantage. I manipulated him into aiding me unquestioningly in my plans.

"Of course, then Aberforth, Albus's weaker but more noble brother, came along. He became aware of our plans, and since Albus's mother was dead, and Albus had to take over as head of the family and take care of his disturbed little sister... Ah, you would like to know about her, would you not?" Grindelwald asked, seeing Harry perk up at the mention of Dumbledore's sister.

"Yes, please," Harry said.

"Well, what I know is what I have learned from Albus. When Ariana Dumbledore was six years old, she was seen by some Muggle children doing magic in the Dumbledores' backyard. They tried to force her to show them how she did it, but she could not, so they attacked her. Albus's father went after and attacked the Muggles. The Ministry, of course, sent him to Azkaban, as he refused to say why he had done it. After all, if he had told them, they would have simply put Ariana in the permanent ward of St. Mungo's. She became insane, see.

"Ariana became emotionally scarred and unable to control her magic. She became dangerous to everyone around her, and when Kendra Dumbledore died, and it was up to Albus to take care of her, he had decided that he would not hold off on our trip around the world to find the Hallows. He decided that we could take her with us. Aberforth did not like that. He claimed that she would not receive the kind of care and attention she needed to keep her stable.

"Naturally, I put him under the Cruciatus Curse for his, I felt then, insolence," Grindelwald spoke with a shrug. "Albus moved to defend Aberforth, and we all ended up dueling somehow. Ariana had heard all the noise, so she came to see what was happening. One of the spells hit her, killing her. To this day, I do not know whose spells was the one that killed her, but I fled, as I already had a bit of a criminal history back here, and it would not be good for me to be found over a dead body."

Grindelwald was silent for a while, staring into one of the darker corners of the cell, and Harry thought himself able to see a bit of regret in Grindelwald's eyes. It was strange to see such a look in the eyes of the man who was proclaimed to be the second most dangerous Dark wizard of all time.

"He truly was your friend, wasn't he?" Harry asked, smiling softly.

"I never returned Albus's romantic feelings toward me, but yes, he was my dearest friend. He was, I think, my only friend. Parting with him was painful, and dueling him even more so. And to see his power used against me like that..." Grindelwald trailed off, shuddering slightly. "Well, you know what happened after that. Albus won, took the Elder Wand, and locked me up here, in my own prison. Never had I thought that I would ever regret making this place completely escape-proof..."

"And with this much time to think," Harry said, twirling his walking stick, "do you still believe that the Muggles should be enslaved?"

"I believe..." Grindelwald paused, seeming to be searching for the right word. "...that wizards are better than Muggles, that is what I believe. But should they be enslaved? No. Should wizards be forced to keep hiding from them? No."

"You are truly remorseful, then," Harry nodded, smiling. Grindelwald raised a bushy eyebrow.

"What is this?"

"Oh, come now, Mr. Grindelwald," Harry said and laughed softly. "Do you truly expect me to believe that you wouldn't be able to escape the very prison you built yourself? You have chosen to stay, and you have resigned yourself to staying here until your death. You may be able to hide that from everyone else, but not from me."

Grindelwald stared at Harry for a moment or two. Then, he laughed mirthfully. It sounded like he hadn't laughed like this in ages, as he laughed so hard that he broke into a coughing fit. His throat wasn't fit for such a laugh, it seemed.

"You are a sharp one, boy. Very sharp. Yes, I have resigned myself to the fate which I have brought upon myself, that is true," Grindelwald croaked weakly. He looked tired now, very tired. Harry stood up smiling.

"Thank you for this very pleasant talk, Mr. Grindelwald. I'll leave you to get some sleep."

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Grindelwald said pleasantly as Harry moved over to the door, knocking three times.

"Good night, Mr. Grindelwald."

The door opened, and the guard poked his head inside the cell, looking at Harry curiously. Harry gave him a look, and the guard nodded, moving out of the way for Harry to pass.

"Cairo," Grindelwald said just as Harry took a step out of the door. Harry stopped and looked back.

"Pardon?"

"That is where he was last seen," Grindelwald clarified. "The Seventh."

Harry felt a smile appear on his face again. He nodded in thanks and said, "Thank you," before leaving the dark cell.

–

_Dear Albus,_

_I went to see Gellert Grindelwald in Nurmengard this morning. He told me some very interesting things about you and your past. I want you to know, sir, that I don't blame you for feeling the way you did, nor do I blame you for the whole situation with your family, especially Ariana. As you told me at the end of my second year, it is our choices that define who we are, and you made some excellent choices later in life._

_As you suspected, Grindelwald knew about all seven Primes, and he knew the last known location of the Seventh. He was incredibly polite in our conversation, and I am pleased to inform you that he does, in fact, feel remorse for what he has done in his life. I think he would be very happy if you would go visit him once this is all over. I would be very happy if you did._

_I'm off to Cairo, to try to find any leads to the Seventh. After all, he was a student of the First, so he should know where she is._

_Anyway, how are things back home? I hope Hermione, Padfoot, and Moony weren't too upset that I left without saying good-bye. I wouldn't be able to bear it, and they would never have let me go alone. Please let them know that I am safe, and that I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to be hexed the second I came back, after all._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry._

Albus Dumbledore put the letter down on his desk, smiling to himself. Though he had been worried when he first read that Harry had been informed about Dumbledore's murkier past, he had not blamed him for it. This thought made Dumbledore very happy, as he had come to see Harry as something of a grandson, and the thought of Harry hating him for his earlier choices in life was almost unbearable.

"I trust you are keeping a watchful eye on him?" Dumbledore spoke into the silence of his office. On his perch, Fawkes the phoenix gave off a musical thrill, which Dumbledore took to mean "yes." He nodded. "Good, good."

Humming to himself, Dumbledore took a fresh roll of parchment out of his desk and started writing.

_Dear Harry,_

_Thank you for those words, my boy, you have no idea how much that means to me. Yes, I have heard rumors that Gellert has been remorseful in later years, but I was unsure if I should believe them or not. Clearly, they were all true, and I regret not going to visit him earlier. Perhaps I was afraid that he knows just who cast the spell that snuffed out Ariana's life. That was, of course, the reason why it took so long for me to finally confront him back then._

_I shall do as you asked and tell Miss Granger, Sirius, and Remus that you are okay, and for them not to worry. I expect that they will be very upset, and I will be forced to relay a large amount of death threats from them, but I am sure that they will get over it, in time. Miss Granger was made Head Girl, and has been working very hard. I believe she intends to make a great impression on her examiners in her NEWTs._

_Remus has taken up part-time work with Sirius, who is doing rather well for himself as a hippogriff breeder. I have heard that he has been planning on procuring a bull and a cow re'em. I do not, however, expect that to work out. Perhaps if Hagrid helps him, though._

_When you get to Cairo, I suggest that you make your way to the magical market in Shatanuf. That is where Fawkes found me in my youth, and it is a great source of information._

_On another topic, I am pleased to inform you that I have found the real locket, and it has been destroyed. It was in Kreecher's possession, and was stolen from Voldemort by Sirius's brother, Regulus Arcturus Black. It is a long and tragic tale, which will make a bigger impression if I told it to you in person once you return from your journey._

_I believe myself to have stumbled upon a lead to Hufflepuff's cup, and I will be investigating it this weekend._

_Be safe, and may our respective searches be fruitful._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus._

_P.S._

_In case you decide to open up a portal to Avalon, be sure not to open the portal in Number Twelve. We are currently using that building as a safe house for the Malfoy family. They, considering their disgrace among the Death Eaters, have come over to our side, and have been supplying us with plenty of information, in exchange for a place where they can be kept safe._

Dumbledore nodded to himself as he rolled up the parchment and tied it with the red silk band that Harry had tied his own letter with. He made a gesture for Fawkes, who flew off his perch to land on Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore took the rolled up parchment and tied it to Fawkes's leg.

"Go to him," he told Fawkes softly.

With a thrill and a flash of fire, Fawkes was gone.

"I have never seen you this happy about a simple letter, headmaster," Dilys Derwent spoke from her frame on the wall.

"Up until now, I have never had a reason to, Dilys," Dumbledore spoke pleasantly.

–

Egypt was hot... Much too hot... Harry wondered how in the name of Merlin's baggiest Y-fronts Fawkes could stand it, with such a thick coat of feathers on his body. Then again, Fawkes was a being of fire, so it was probably impossible for him to get too hot, or cold for that matter.

The Shatanuf market was a very loud place. Much bigger than Diagon Alley, stretching out for Merlin knows how long in the sand stood rickety stands, with their cloth overhang ranging from everything to nice and clean to dirty and tattered, depending on the popularity of the items the men and women in the stands were selling.

It was weird to Harry. Much like with Parseltongue, he understood the Egyptian Arabic perfectly, though he had never learned the language. He could understand and speak it, though he didn't know just how he could understand and speak it. He merely took it to be one of life's great mysteries.

"So, this is where you come from, huh?" Harry asked the phoenix on his shoulder. Fawkes thrilled happily, looking around with an almost nostalgic look in his eyes. There was no place like home, after all.

"Boy, hey, boy!" a voice called from one of the stands.

Harry turned, to see a rather pathetic-looking man standing under a tattered and patched cloth overhang. He reeked of sweat, just like everyone else there (Harry supposed it came from standing around in the sun all day, hollering at the top of your lungs), but more so than anyone Harry had so far encountered. His fez was askew, and his thick walrus mustache quivered as he spoke, his beady eyes staring straight into Harry's own.

"American?" the stand owner asked in Arabic.

"No," Harry answered in fluent Arabic. "I'm British."

"Ah, a British!" the man said joyfully. "I love the British! You are great people! Say, would you be interested in a trade, British?"

"A trade?" Harry asked as he approached the stand, which he noticed that the large amount of people was avoiding. "What type of trade?"

"I have a very special offer for you, British!" the man proclaimed. He ducked down behind the counter of his stand and came up holding a phial filled with some kind of black, viscous liquid. It looked almost like Polyjuice potion without a hair in it, and Harry's danger senses immediately told him that he should avoid it. "This is a very rare potion! It is known as the Liquid Fortune. This potion will greatly enhance your luck. It is said that if you focus hard on a single wish when drinking it, the wish will come true!"

Harry felt his eyebrow rise sceptically.

"And what would you want in return for this... er... Liquid Fortune?"

"That is a mighty fine phoenix you have there, British," the man said, smiling brightly. "In return for this marvelous potion, I require only five drops of tears from it."

Harry shook his head. Did this man really think that he was that stupid? Harry looked up at Fawkes, who clearly felt the same thing. Turning, Harry walked away from the stand owner, who quickly cleared his throat.

"Alright, then, I'll take four drops! Three... er... two! Just a single tear, and the potion is yours!"

"Can you believe these people?" Harry asked the phoenix as he walked. "They're like animals."

All around them, the stand owners were shouting to the people passing them, announcing loudly the quality of their wares and the usefulness of said wares. However, with everyone shouting together, it all came out as a horrible noise that almost hurt Harry listening to it. Fawkes gave a strange squawk as he ruffled his feathers, obviously just as annoyed as Harry was.

But this was a magical market, the only magical market within miles. If anyone knew where to find information on the Seventh, it was these people.

"You look lost," a deep voice suddenly said as Harry passed another stand that seemed to be avoided. In it sat a man, probably of African origin, judging by his skin color. He was wearing thick, black robes, along with a black turban and a piece of cloth wrapped around the lower part of his face, so that only his eyes and ring-adorned hands were visible. Under his eyes, he had some kind of golden make-up, and he had a rune tattooed between his eyebrows, but Harry couldn't remember what it meant... The man gave off a very mysterious aura, and his brown eyes were sharp, possessing the same quality as Dumbledore's, as if he could see straight into Harry's mind.

Immediately, Harry put up his Occlumency shields, but the feeling didn't disappear. Obviously, the man wasn't using Legilimency on him. The man, unlike the other stand owners, was sitting down in the back of his stand, leaning back lazily and observing Harry calmly with his hands intertwined in his lap.

"Not lost," Harry said.

"Merely searching for something," the man spoke in the same deep, calming voice as Kingsley. "Or someone?"

"Perhaps."

The man indicated Harry to come closer. Harry did so, if only to humor the man. When he reached the counter, the man stood up and walked closer, leaning against the counter and looking straight into Harry's eyes.

"No, you are lost, boy," the man spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Just what are you looking for?"

"And why should I tell you?" Harry asked curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"Why not? You will never get any information if you don't ask for it first."

Harry chuckled. The man had answered immediately, without taking so much as a second to think about it.

"I am looking for a man who is known as the Seventh," Harry said after a few seconds to contemplate telling him. "I've been told that this is his last known location."

"The Seventh?" the man asked curiously. He hummed and backed away, sitting down once more and clasping his hands in front of him. "Now what would someone like you want with a man like him?"

"My business is my own, you have no need to know. Can you tell me where I can find him or not?"

"Why, certainly I can," the man said, and he sounded very amused.

"I'm guessing you would like something in return?"

"No, I do not," the man said with a chuckle. "I will give you this information for free. If you go straight north from here, you will see a sign, this sign is invisible to Muggles, and you will be the only one to see it. The sign says, 'Whosoever passes this point shall find themselves in the Desert of the Damned.' All you have to do is get through the desert."

"And why would you tell me this for free?" Harry asked, seeing a mischievous glint enter the man's eyes.

"Oh, it is not truly free. You may have to pay for this information with your life. See... no man except for the Seventh has ever entered that desert and lived to speak of it..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Was he being serious? The man's eyes crinkled slightly, showing that he was smiling.

"So, if you die, feel free to come back as a ghost and tell me how far you got, okay?" he asked happily.

–

Since Avalon was closed with Harry going on his trip, and Grimmauld Place was being used as a safe house for the Malfoy family, the Order of the Phoenix were forced to use the Burrow as their headquarters.

In the middle of a meeting, Dumbledore sat in a chair at one end of the magically lengthened dinner table in the Burrow kitchen, reading a letter from Harry.

_Dear Albus,_

_Found a lead on the Seventh in Shatanuf market. A man gave me directions to a place called the Desert of the Damned. Seemed a bit like a loony to me, but the directions seemed serious enough, so I figured that I might as well check it out. Apparently, not even a phoenix can flame in and out of the desert, so Fawkes will have to stay with you while I go through the desert. I will go in as soon as I get your response._

_How are things back home? I always suspected that there was going on between Moony and Tonks, how are they doing? Are they together yet? And how's Sirius's re'em breeding going? Failing as expected? Don't tell him I said that, though... He might get a little sad. And as headmaster, you must obviously know how your Head Girl is doing, so please share, if you'd like._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Egypt is a lot hotter than I had expected!_

Dumbledore chuckled as he finished the letter and folded it. Looking up, he was greeted with curious stares from everyone at the table.

"How is he doing?" Sirius asked, sitting next to Lupin, who was sitting next to Tonks on Dumbledore's right side.

"He is doing quite well," Dumbledore said, mirth evident in his voice. "He wishes you the best of luck in your re'em breeding, Sirius."

Sirius seemed to see right through Dumbledore's lie, much to his amusement.

"That little brat! He has no faith in me!"

Dumbledore just chuckled again. "Now, allow me to compose a reply, and we shall get this meeting started," he said, taking a piece of parchment out of his robes. You could never bring too much parchment, Dumbledore always said, there could always be a need for it. He was very glad to be proven right.

_Dear Harry,_

_I wish for you to be careful when going through the Desert of the Damned. There are rumors that no man has ever gone in there and lived to speak of it. I would like you to keep Fawkes with you when you go through, if only for moral support. He can be quite useful in that regard, after all._

_As for back home, well, we are all doing alright. Remus and Nymphadora are due to be married soon. It seems that they finally confessed to each other on the day when the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts. It's always such a pleasure to see love bloom between two youthful people._

_So far, Sirius is doing alright in his re'em breeding. He had purchased the bull and the cow, but he appears to have some trouble getting the two of them to mate. I hear the bull almost gored Sirius with its horn when he tried to force it. Both Sirius and Madam Pomfrey refuse to tell anyone where he got gored, which leaves us all to assume that it was in some place rather embarrassing. I have noticed that Sirius has been sitting funny since that incident. I, of course, have not voiced my suspicions, though._

_Hermione is doing, as expected, excellent. It seems that she has made you her goal, so I suspect that she is trying to study as hard as she can, wishing the year to be finished as soon as possible so that she may chase after you. Despite this, however, she remains an excellent Head Girl, as she takes her duties quite seriously, though not too seriously._

_I hope your journey ends safely, Harry, and I want you to send me a letter the second you get out of that Desert, please._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus_

Dumbledore rolled up the parchment and tied it to Fawkes's leg, watching the bird disappear in a flash of fire. All he could do was pray for Harry's success.

–

Harry finished reading Dumbledore's letter and rolled it up, pocketing it. Currently, he was standing in front of the sign, which read exactly as the man in the stand back at the market had said. He saw nothing strange past the sign, except for normal desert. Then again, magic had a habit of being more than it appeared. He looked up at Fawkes, who was perched on his shoulder.

"Are you sure you want to go with me? We may not get out of here."

Fawkes gave a musical thrill that left Harry feeling warm inside, filling him up with confidence. He grinned up at Fawkes, and took a step past the sign. Immediately, Harry felt a jolt go through his body, and a bright white light flashed in front of his eyes. When it died down, Harry gaped.

Where there had once been a normal desert, there was now miles upon miles of black sand. The sky above them was a deep purple color, and here and there Harry saw something blood red slither through the sand. In the sand directly in front of him was a human skeleton, on its back with its spine arched as if in terrible pain. Harry knelt and inspected the skeleton. The armor the man was wearing had somehow been melted, so there wasn't much left of it, but from what he could see of the armor, it was... this was a Spanish soldier, from hundreds of years ago...

Harry stood up and took a look around. There were skeletons all over the place, all of them with their robes and armors somehow melted. He took a step back, and was surprised to find that he didn't leave the strange desert. He looked back. Desert. All he could see behind him was the same black desert.

"I guess there is no going back, is there?" Harry said, hearing Fawkes give a noise of agreement. "Well, I suppose there is no way to go but forward, then."

Harry transformed his walking stick back into his staff and started walking. It felt somehow hotter in this desert than it was in Shatanuf... Were the red things slithering in the sand getting bigger? Harry shook his head. This place was probably messing with his mind...

A crunch brought Harry's attention to the sand, where he discovered that he had stepped on the skull of another skeleton. The skeleton was buried in the sand, but poking out of it was... a book? He knelt in the sand and grabbed the diary-sized book, opening it and reading it curiously.

_Herein can be found what is without a doubt the last exploration of Stefan af Lürssta._

Harry's eyes widened. Stefan af Lürssta was an explorer from Sweden, who gained fame in 1741, when he discovered a coven of veela, the first coven found in the world, which could show proof of intelligence in their race. After that, Stefan went on to make many discoveries in the world. For thirty-three years he was one of the most famous explorers in the world, until he mysteriously disappeared in 1774. So this was where he disappeared...

_The Desert of the Damned truly is a god-forsaken place... For_

_five days, I have walked now. I have found nothing but sand_

_and bones. There are creatures here, but I do not know what_

_they are. For brief moments, just seconds, I can see them in_

_the sand. At first glance, they look like snakes, but I have list-_

_ened. The noises coming from the sand when they move sugg-_

_est that they are much bigger than the glimpses would sugg-_

_est... much bigger..._

That was the end of the first entry. Harry flipped through the pages to see if he could find another interesting entry.

_Ten days have now passed since I entered this place. It truly is_

_a Desert of the Damned. I have so far gone in all directions, but_

_I remain hopelessly lost. I do not even know where my point of_

_entry was... I have walked miles upon miles, yet I can find noth-_

_ing... I believe this may be the place of my death. I do not doubt_

_that. I just wish... I wish I could see my children again... Just to_

_hold them once more would surely be a blessing..._

Poor man. Harry couldn't imagine how it must have felt for him, to wander around this place for days, completely lost... Harry supposed that he'd know soon enough just how it felt. At least he had Fawkes with him... He flipped through the diary again.

_Fifteen days... I have been walking in a single direction for three_

_days now... The beasts around me appear to be getting rest-_

_less. They are circling me, but they do not attack. They are th-_

_ere, though, and I suspect that that is what they are trying to_

_remind me with their circling. I am afraid that they may start to_

_attack me any day. I miss my family... I regret ever going on th-_

_is journey... There is so much that I regret, that I am so sorry f-_

_or... I am sorry, Erik and Elsa, for it seems that I will be unable_

_to return to watch you grow up... I am sorry, Monika, but I will_

_not be coming back from this trip... I am sorry for everything, f-_

_or spending so much time doing research when it should have_

_been spent with you all... I am sorry for being the man I was, a-_

_nd not the man I should have been... I am sorry for everything,_

_I do not think I can say it enough. I am so sorry..._

_They are returning. I must stop for_

The passage stopped there, suggesting that he had been forced to stop writing. Harry flipped the page, but found that nothing else was written on it. Was this what he'd been doing right before he died? Harry looked down at the skeleton, and pocketed the journal. If he remembered correctly, Stefan had descendants. It would be only proper for them to receive this journal.

Harry sent out a magical pulse, and his eyes widened at the results. The pulses that came back from the ground gave him an estimate on the size of the creatures under the sand. They were huge, easily the size of the Hungarian Horntail! And there wasn't just one or two of them. There were hundreds!

According to Stefan, it took about fifteen days for them to start attacking him, so Harry felt that he was safe, for now. What bothered him, however, was what one of the entries had said. It had said that he had been walking in a single direction for three days, yet Harry found his skeleton right at the entrance of the desert... Did that mean that he hadn't moved at all? Or maybe he was brought back to the entrance if he took a wrong step?

Harry was brought out of his musings when he stepped on something hard, instead of the usual soft sand. He looked down and saw that he had stepped on a blood red piece of crab-like shell buried in the sand. The thing he had stepped on started shaking as a loud, ear-splitting shriek pierced the air. Harry immediately started stumbling back when the thing rose out of the sand.

The creature that rose from the sand looked like some horrible cross-breeding between a scorpion, a crab, and a dragon. It had only two ball-jointed legs covered by a thick, blood-red armor that looked to be made from stone, though Harry suspected it was much more durable than that. It also had two massive, equally armored pincers that looked capable of cutting him in two easily. Behind its coin-shaped, armor covered body, it had a long tail like a scorpion, only instead of a stinger, it had a large ball with several jagged spikes on it. Its face was, by far, the most terrifying. Its lower jaw split in two, revealing tow rows of razor-sharp teeth. On the back of its tongue, which flopped out when the lower jaw split, it had a hole that was dripping a viscous material that reminded Harry of bobotuber pus.

Never did Harry think that he would ever prefer Hagrid's skrewts over something...

"Blimey," Harry muttered as the creature seemed to stare at him, even though it didn't appear to have any eyes.

The creature reared back, using its tail to steady itself, and then threw its body forward, digging its pincers into the sand. From its mouth it shot the viscous material at Harry in a powerful jet. Harry, thinking quickly, dodged and rolled in the sand. His eyes widened when he saw the sand where the creature's spit had hit... It was melting...

The ground started shaking as more creatures rose from the sand where the acid spit from the creature had hit. They all gave off ear-splitting shrieks that made Fawkes cry out in distress.

Harry swung his staff at the nearest creature, and was pleased when the gong-like sound was heard, and the creature was launched into the air. His rejoicing was cut short, however, as he had to duck under the swing of a tail from a creature behind him.

"Fawkes!" Harry cried, and the phoenix took the hint. He shot into the air, letting go of Harry's shoulder, and circled above them, making sure to keep out of the creatures' reach. Harry followed suit, flying into the air and staying there as he gazed down. This was bad. More and more creatures were coming out of the sand, and they all seemed angry. Where was Hagrid when you needed him? He would have loved to have been there in Harry's stead...

Harry pointed his staff down at the creature directly below him and let loose a blast of Fiendfyre. The fire circled the tip of Harry's staff for a second, then shot straight down at the creature, smashing into its back. Harry hadn't believed that it would work too well, but he was pleasantly surprised when the creature exploded. It showered the creatures around in chucks of stone-like armor, a black blood, and the acid spit. The creatures went insane. Although the acid did no visible damage to them, the creatures started thrashing and fighting with each other.

"I suppose we should be happy," Harry mused as he slowly drifted away. Fawkes flew over and landed on his shoulder. "Every second they spend fighting each other is a second not spent fighting us."

He really wanted to land, but as far as the eye could see, the desert was full of creatures, taking up every millimeter of sand. They were shrieking and clicking at each other, shoving and fighting here and there.

"Alright, what do we know about this place?" Harry asked as he put his legs in the lotus position, thinking. "It's filled with strange creatures, black sand, purple sky, stretches on for days, yet somehow you end up back at the start even if you walk in the same direction for three days..."

Fawkes gave a sad squawk from his place on Harry's shoulder. Harry was about to speak, but suddenly had to dodge to the right as a jet of acid spit shot through the air where he'd been a second earlier. It seemed that the creatures had decided it was easier to focus on Harry than each other, as they were all looking up at him now, hissing and clicking angrily.

Harry couldn't figure out what to do. He couldn't go left, right, forward, or back, as they would all apparently bring him back to the beginning again.

Fawkes gave off an excited thrill, catching Harry's attention. Then, Fawkes took off, flying straight up. Had Fawkes seen something? Unable to think of anything better to do, he followed the phoenix, flying straight up into the purple sky. Was there something there? Harry thought he could hear voices... Yes, is sounded like a crowd!

The sky was getting darker the higher he flew, and Fawkes drew closer to him, finally getting close enough to latch onto his shoulder as he increased his speed. The sky was almost pitch black now, and he could no longer see the ground underneath him. The voices were getting louder, too, though it sounded almost like his head was covered by a plastic bag, and the voices were muffled.

"Oh, that's it," a voice echoed around him, a voice he recognized. He could easily hear the amusement in the voice. "You're almost there, keep going!"

Then, all went black for Harry, and he felt that same sensation he felt when he Apparated. He was being pressed hard from all directions, and he couldn't breathe. It was that very familiar feeling of being squeezed through a tube. Then, as quickly as the sensation appeared, it vanished, and Harry found himself laying in sand again. All was bright around him as he slowly opened his eyes. He was back in Shatanuf market, inside one of the stands.

Harry forced himself to sit up, finding a very tired-looking Fawkes in his lap. A chuckle from behind him made him look back, to see that mysterious man from earlier, sitting in the same position he had been sitting in when they last left him. This time, however, he was holding something in his hands... It was a very finely crafted Arabic oil lamp made of gold. It was releasing a strange, purple smoke, which was the same color as the sky in the Desert of the Damned.

"Congratulations," the man said, clapping his hands softly. "You are the first person ever to have entered my desert and managed to escape."

"You... Your desert?" Harry asked, his breathing heavy as he got up, cradling Fawkes in his arms.

"Indeed," the man said, nodding. "One of my finer creations, made especially for you."

"M-Me?"

"'There will come a man,' Elvina said to me," the man said, sounding very happy. "'He will come asking for you. His intention will be to find me for training. He is the Ninth. You will construct a zone that only a Prime would be able to escape, and you will send anyone asking for you there.' That is what she told me, so that is what I did."

"Elvina?" Harry asked, blinking in confusion.

"The First, of course," the man said, and only now did Harry remember what that rune meant! It was Unknown, the runic symbol for the number seven! Why didn't he realize it earlier? "That is who you are looking for, isn't it?"

"It is," Harry said.

"Elvina, the First, the Oracle of the Primes, my teacher, has been waiting for you," the Seventh said, still looking very amused. "She has been waiting for you for such a long time, since before you were even born. She will be very pleased to see... er... well, she will be very pleased to meet you."

"And where can I find this... Elvina?" Harry asked. He still didn't quite know what to think of such a cruel contraption. Harry couldn't remember how many skeletons he had seen littering that god-forsaken place before those monsters showed up.

"You can find her to the north," the Seventh said, smiling behind his cloth wrappings. "The last time I saw her was around two hundred years ago, I think. Yes, we were having tea with Nicolas at the time. That is the last time I saw her."

"Nicolas?" Harry asked, idly noticing how no one seemed to be paying attention to what was being said. "You mean... Nicolas Flamel?"

"Naturally," the Seventh said, nodding. "He is the Sixth Prime. How else do you think I have managed to live this long, if not for Nick's famous Philosopher's Stone?"

"He made more than one?"

"Oh, about seven, I think," the Seventh said. "One for me, one for Elvina, and five for himself. All but mine have been destroyed by now, I think, and old Nicolas has finally decided to move on." He closed his eyes, seeming to be lost in memories for a moment. Then, he opened his eyes and stared into Harry's own. "Go north. North-west of Moscow, you will find a mountain chain, which the Muggles are avoiding. This is because they cannot see it. That is where you can find Elvina."

"That's pretty vague," Harry said as he sat Fawkes down on the counter of the Seventh's stand and took out a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill. Then, he started to write.

"It cannot be helped," the Seventh said with a shrug. "Elvina has warded and enchanted that mountain chain so much that it is impossible to give anything but vague directions. You cannot even point at its general location on a map. It is part of a Prime's challenge, to find her cave. It took me... a week, I think, to find her. I wish you the best of luck, Nine."

–

_That's right. Me. Didn't think I'd be in this story, did you? Well, that's me, anyway, the Seventh. I didn't have the honor of spending a lot of time with Harry in this little adventure of his, but trust me when I say that we are very good friends. Fine, if you don't want to believe me, you don't have to, but it's the truth, honest. Anyway, back to the story, yes?_

–

To say that Dumbledore was shocked to see an almost dead-looking Fawkes flash into existence on the kitchen table in the Burrow was an understatement. As soon as he landed, the phoenix collapsed on the table, looking completely exhausted. After Molly had given Fawkes some water, which he drank down greedily, Dumbledore took the parchment off of Fawkes's leg and read it.

_Dear Albus,_

_I have returned safely from the Desert of the Damned, although I almost lost my life in the process. The entrance to the desert was actually a portal, leading into some kind of pocket dimension in the Seventh Prime's oil lamp. Apparently, the First, who also happens to be the Oracle I am searching for, had told him to construct the lamp just for me. I would apparently prove that I was the Ninth by escaping it._

_Fawkes seems exhausted from our visit to the lamp, so I think it would be better if I went on by foot for now, and for Fawkes to rest a little. If it wasn't for him, I don't think I would have been able to escape from there. He did very good. I hope he isn't permanently injured from the exhaustion..._

_I am heading north, to a mountain chain where I have been told the First is. Hopefully, I will get there within the week, I'll send you an owl when I get to Moscow. If you have any reports on Death Eater activity between Egypt and Russia, I'll be glad to take care of it for you on the way._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry_

"Well, it would appear that Harry made it out of the Desert of the Damned alive and well," Dumbledore said as he rolled up the parchment and pocketed it, then reached out to softly stroke Fawkes's feathers. "I am pleased to inform you that while Fawkes's is a little tired from the journey, Harry is well enough to begin his journey toward Moscow."

"Did he ask about me?" Sirius asked eagerly.

"No, Sirius, he did not."

–

_**DEATH EATERS STOPPED IN BERLIN!**_

_**Potter strikes again!**_

_For those who wondered whether or not Harry Potter had abandoned_

_us, you have just gotten your answer. No, he has not abandoned us._

_Apparently, the Chosen One has decided to travel the world to hunt_

_down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters, who have_

_left Britain on some mysterious business. What He-Who-Must-Not-Be-_

_Named is after, nobody know, but what is known is that Harry Potter_

_is hot on his trail._

_'Mr. Potter has, unfortunately, decided not to come back for his seve-_

_nt year here at Hogwarts,' says Professor Albus Dumbledore (Chief W-_

_arlock, Supreme Mugwump, Order of Merlin, First Class) when asked_

_about the Chosen One. 'As he was perfectly capable of successfully si-_

_tting his NEWTs at the end of last year, he sat them then, and may I_

_say that he performed beautifully. Now, Mr. Potter feels that his atte-_

_ntion is best focused on ridding this world of Voldemort once and for_

_all.'_

_And the Chosen One has been busy. Last night, in Berlin, he could be_

_seen dueling five Death Eaters at once, after catching them torturing_

_a family of Muggles. Mr. Potter was quick to Stun all five of them, and_

_left them to be arrested by the German Ministry of Magic. Where the_

_Chosen One is headed next remains to be seen._

–

Harry Potter, if someone actually managed to recognize him, could be seen wading through the thick snow just north of Moscow. Despite walking through a forest so thick that the sky couldn't even be seen through the tree tops, the snowstorm still managed to get through, layering the ground with two feet thick snow, and biting into Harry's face as he walked against the wind. He had purchased some new clothes when he stopped in Moscow, but it still wasn't enough to completely block out the almost unnatural cold. Not even a Warming Charm completely warmed him up.

Now dressed in a thick fur coat and fur cap, with a very thick scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, Harry Potter was now quite unrecognizable. And even if he took his off the scarf, he would still be hard to recognize, as he had had a quite spontaneous growth of facial hair. His full beard, though short, was itching like crazy, and had been covered in icicles and snow in the snowstorm.

He had to admit that it was weird for someone who was only seventeen to grow a beard so quickly, but according to Sirius, facial hair grew quickly for Potter men. Apparently, Harry's dad had been able to style a goatee when he was sixteen, something that Sirius and Lupin teased him for like crazy.

Harry had to suppress a laugh as he thought about that. He had to focus on his breathing. The higher he got on this mountain, the harder it was to breathe as the air got thinner. He dreaded the moment he got out of the forest, if this much snow managed to get inside. He shuddered, imagining how much snow was outside the forest.

It was strange, really, the weather hadn't been nearly as rough earlier, but the moment he set foot in the forest, a snowstorm had started raging. Harry had sent Fawkes back to Dumbledore. Snow wasn't really his element, and Harry didn't want to put him through this snowstorm needlessly. After all, he had already put Fawkes through enough in the Desert of the Damned.

"You look lost," a deep voice that made Harry stop said. He turned to the right, to see the Seventh leaning against one of the pine trees with his arms crossed, amusement evident on his face. He didn't look cold at all, and yet he was only wearing what he had been wearing back in the Shatanuf market. Come to think of it, there wasn't even a single snowflake on him, either. "I looked like that the first time I came here," he continued, his deep voice easily discernible over the howling winds. His eyes crinkled into a smile. "You look very amusing."

"I-If you're only h-here to make jokes... sod off..." Harry muttered, not really surprised that the Seventh spoke perfect English. The man probably spoke more languages than even Dumbledore.

"Oh, I am not just here to make jokes, although the jokes do make this trip more amusing for me," the Seventh said, chuckling. "I am actually here to guide you to Elvina. It would be prudent for you to reach her as fast as possible. I fear that someone else may have reached her first." Harry didn't have to ask who the Seventh meant by 'someone else.' "And believe me, Elvina would not have any qualms about telling Tom Riddle all about his heritage as the Eighth Prime of Merlin."

"Lead the way, then," Harry said, and the Seventh nodded before walking off, wading through the snow without a care in the world.

They walked in silence for a long time. How long, Harry didn't know. It felt like an hour, maybe two, although it could have been much shorter, or much longer. As expected, the snowstorm was even harsher once they made it out in the open, and were now climbing over treacherous rocks and leaping over deep gorges in the mountainside.

"Wow, it is really hot out here," the Seventh said, looking like he was sweating as he sat down on a snow covered stone. Harry glared heatedly at him, his face, hands, and feet numb from the cold.

It wasn't easy to make out the shape of the mountain. It was all white, as far as the eye could see. He couldn't even make out where the top of the mountain was, as the sky was also snow white, probably charmed to appear that way.

"Hey, what is wrong?" the Seventh asked curiously, though he sounded rather like Fred and George sounded whenever they teased a victim of their pranks. "You look cold."

"Why are we s-stopping?" Harry asked. He found it hard to talk without feeling in his face. The scarf did nothing to protect him from the cold...

The Seventh hummed as he crossed his arms, staring up at the sky.

"I am waiting for the sign," he said enigmatically, and it sounded like he took great pleasure in talking about something Harry knew nothing about. "Yes, there it is. That's the sign." Harry looked to where the Seventh was pointing, straight into the sky. There was nothing different about it. It was all snow white as usual. He squinted, trying to see what the Seventh was seeing, when he heard the man say, "Well, good-bye, Nine!"

With that, Harry felt the solid rock underneath him disappear, and he fell through darkness.

Harry didn't know how long he was falling, but it felt like he was falling for the longest time. Then, finally, he saw a dot of light underneath him. The light grew bigger and bigger, and he suddenly found himself falling straight into a very comfortable, puff armchair that caught him as softly as if he had only fallen two feet.

He was in a cave, which was brightly lit by torches. It wasn't too big, though. In one corner of the cave, there was a ceramic wash basin on a small, rickety table, two bright pink towels hanging on the wall next to it. In another corner was a single bed, looking like it had seen better days. Harry was sitting in one corner of the cave, and looking up he saw that the hole he had fallen through was gone. The final corner had a fire burning in it, with a teapot hanging above it, magically suspended in the air.

In the middle of the cave, sitting in a runic circle, sat a woman who looking to be no older than twenty. She was wearing a strange combination of clothing. She wore a light red variation of a yukata over a pair of thin cotton pants and a rather tight cotton turtle neck shirt.

"Just in time," the woman, who was sitting in a lotus position on the floor, facing him, said with a mysterious smile on her face. Her voice was gentle and kind, the type of voice you would expect to hear from a kind elderly woman. "The tea is ready."

Just then, the tea pot started whistling, and the woman waved her hand at it. The tea pot moved on its own, and from out of seemingly nowhere, two tea cups materialized in front of the woman. "Milk, one sugar?" she spoke softly as the tea started preparing itself right in front of her, her eyes still closed.

"How did you know?" Harry asked as he pulled off his scarf. The woman gave a soft, musical laugh.

"Oh, Harry, there is so much I know, I can hardly keep track of it all."

Slowly, the woman's eyes opened, and Harry was shocked to see that her eyes looked cobwebbed, much like the eyes of the Inferius he had seen in Voldemort's cave.

"Y-You're-"

"Blind, yes," the woman said with a nod. Slowly, she rose from her position on the floor and walked, as if she wasn't blind at all, toward Harry. She stopped about three feet in front of him and made to sit down. An identical armchair appeared underneath her and caught her, while a coffee table materialized between them. The two tea cups, along with saucers and spoons, softly landed on the table, while the tea pot disappeared. Where she had gotten the tea leaves, sugar and milk, Harry had no idea.

"Please, Harry, make yourself at home," the woman said with a kind smile on her face. Harry felt... well, he didn't quite know how to explain it, but he felt very safe around this woman. "Now, as you already know, I am Elvina, also known as the Prime Oracle, or sometimes as the Oracle of the Primes. I am the First, and I have been blessed with the Gift of Sight. Although my eyes are blind, my inner eye is stronger than anyone's."

Harry shrugged off his coat and took off his hat, grabbing his tea cup and sipping it.

"Thank you for seeing me," he said, then winced. Perhaps that wasn't the best choice of words... To his relief, however, Elvina laughed.

"Oh, do not worry about offending me. Merlin knows Imam has gone through all the blind jokes possible."

"Imam?" Harry asked, blinking.

"The Seventh," Elvina clarified. "He is quite the joker, that one. I do so enjoy his visits. They are very amusing."

They sat in silence, Harry slowly sipping his tea. He didn't want to seem ungrateful. He had, after all, only come here with the intention of getting training from this woman... Elvina laughed again.

"Well, I suppose we should just breeze through this, should we not?" she asked, amusement evident in her voice and on her face. "This is the part where you cautiously mention training, and then apologize for the rudeness. I then tell you that you are forgiven, and, gratefully, you will momentarily forget about the training, in favor of getting to know me."

Harry gaped. How did she know?

"Oh, I have seen this moment quite a few times, Harry," Elvina said happily. "We will talk well into the night. You will get tired, and I will offer to share my bed with you, on one condition. You will ask what that condition is, and I will say that you will have to make something of that beard."

Harry subconsciously brought a hand up to his chin. "Er... How can you...?"

"I am blind, Harry, and that should say a lot about how bad that beard looks on you. I have seen you change it to many different styles in my visions, but my personal favorite was your own version of the mutton chops. Now, during our talk, you will start getting feelings for me, and though you will be embarrassed about it, we will be very intimate tonight."

Harry felt himself blush at that, and Elvina's laughter only made it worse.

"This is really weird," Harry said. "How can I make my own choices if everything has already been decided beforehand?"

"Because we make our own destinies," Elvina said calmly, the soft smile still on her face. "For example, we did not go through your cautious mention of the training, because I chose a different path. However, whether you blatantly refuse to be intimate with me or not, the fact remains that you are a good person, and you will be worried about hurting my feelings, that you will apologize, and we will end up intimate anyway."

Harry was really starting to get annoyed with this woman but for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her. Maybe it was the way she looked, the way she carried herself, or the way she spoke, but she was just really likeable...

Elvina stood up rather suddenly, and the table and tea cups disappeared as she crossed over to Harry. Slowly, she sat down in his lap, her legs draped across Harry's own as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry was too shocked to move as she leaned closer, a gentle smile on her face.

"Maybe you would feel better if we were intimate before we got to the talking?" she asked gently, leaning closer still. Harry felt himself staring into her vacant eyes, mesmerized. Her face was only inches away from his own now... "But first..." Elvina held up her hand, and in it she held something that he was sure hadn't been there earlier: a straight razor. "...you need to shave. I have already arranged the wash basin for you. Take your time."

–

"The sun should be rising right about now..."

Those words woke Harry right up. He could hardly believe how the last few weeks had gone by. True to Elvina's word, they had had sex that first night, and then talked, a lot. Elvina seemed to already know everything Harry had done in his life, but she was happy to hear it again, and Harry was equally, if not more, fascinated by Elvina's stories. For the last seven hundred years, she had lived in this cave, and she had watched Primes come and go, figuratively, of course, and do great deeds.

Harry had shaved, as ordered, and left a pair of 'friendly mutton chops,' as they were called. Although he had foregone keeping the mustache, only keeping some of it on either side of his upper lip, and also kept some on his neck, making a small spike run down each side of his neck. He didn't like them thick, so he'd decided to make them nice and trimmed.

Harry was still a bit confused regarding the last three weeks, which had just been spent talking, as he lay there, spooning with Elvina.

"It's strange, really," Elvina said softly, her eyes closed. "For over a thousand years, I have seen vision upon vision, yet in none of those visions have I ever seen the sun... Tell me about it, Harry."

"The sun?" Harry asked as he hummed, thinking of a way to describe it. "Well, it's as big as it's warm. Nothing escapes its light. Bright beyond words... and almost as beautiful as you are."

Elvina gave another one of her gentle laughs.

"You are sweet," she said pleasantly. Then, she turned depressed. Harry didn't need to see her face to know that she was. He felt it. Her 'aura,' if you could call it that, the feeling of warmth and kindness she gave off, became depressed. "I fear for the future, for the first time ever."

"Why?" Harry asked curiously. From what he had learned of her, she hadn't seemed like a person to be afraid of anything.

"Oh, it is not for myself that I fear for the future," Elvina said immediately. "It is for you. After today, you will leave, and we will never see each other again."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "I'll come visit."

"You could, but you would find no one," Elvina said, snuggling closer to Harry. "After you leave this cave, I will take down the runes protecting it, staving off my death, and I will pass on to the next life."

This statement made Harry's eyes widen, and he shot up in the bed, staring down at Elvina incredulously.

"What? Why?"

"You really are cute, Harry," Elvina said as she turned over on her back to face him, not even caring if her bare chest was displayed in the process. "I am over a thousand years old. I have waited so long for this moment. It is my wish to pass on. All I wanted, really, was a very pleasant few weeks before I moved on, and you have given me it. Thank you, Harry."

"But..."

"Oh, don't worry about the training," Elvina said, smiling still. "You do not need it. All you need is to truly, with all your heart, believe in yourself. That was all you ever needed, and that is all you will ever need. If you believe in yourself, as you should, your potential is limitless." Just as Harry was about to open his mouth, she sat up and pressed a finger against his lips. "I know that was not what you were going to ask about, but some things are best left unspoken."

"But I can't just let you die, not after what we've been through," Harry said. He was truly feeling sad about this. He had known Elvina for only a few weeks, and he was feeling completely heart-broken about this.

"Which is why I fear for the future," Elvina said, her smile disappearing. "After today, there are two possible directions for your life to take. Either you steel yourself and move on, as only you could do, and become stronger for it, or you get so overwhelmed by grief that you..." She stopped speaking, closing her unseeing eyes and shaking her head. "Promise me that you will not allow my death to control your life, Harry."

"This is unreal..." Harry muttered. "We've known each other for just a few weeks... I shouldn't be feeling this way about you."

"No, that would be the diluted love potion I put in your tea when you first arrived," Elvina answered simply. Harry gaped at her. "I told you, I wanted a very pleasant few weeks before I passed away. I was not too picky when it came to how I would get that night."

"You... drugged me?" Harry asked in shock.

"I do not like to call it that. The feelings you have are quite real. The love potion only served to speed up the process. Neither one of us had time for your feelings to bloom."

"And your feelings?" Harry asked. "What am I to you?"

"You are the Ninth, or course," Elvina said, smiling again. "You are the man who I have watched for ages. I have seen all the possible choices in your life, and I have seen you make the right choices. I suppose that it is some form of love I feel for you, or we would not have been intimate so many times."

"So that's it?" Harry asked, still in shock. "You just use me and then send me away?"

"I never used you, Harry, and you know that," Elvina said. She lay back down on the bed and pulled Harry down with her. "Now, go back to sleep. I promise you that when you wake up, all will make sense to you."

Elvina's words seemed to be magical, as Harry felt his eyelids grow heavy, even if he wasn't tired at all. Before he knew what she was doing, he was fast asleep.

When Harry next woke up, he found himself alone in the bed. Elvina was nowhere to be seen. For some reason, he didn't feel as heartbroken about her absence as he thought he would. In fact, he felt pretty normal... What the hell was going on?

"I see you are awake, finally," a deep voice spoke. In the armchair in the corner of the cave sat Imam, the Seventh, with his arms crossed.

"You?" Harry asked as he sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. He reached for his glasses and put them on. "What are you doing here?"

"Elvina has left," Imam said sadly. "She has decided to pass on to the next life. She asked me to come here and show you the exit, and to give you some advice on how to get off this mountain."

"Gone?" Harry asked. He didn't think he would, but he could feel the sadness building up as he thought about the moments they had shared the last couple of weeks. Was that love? The love potion was supposed to speed up the process, so maybe it really was love? Harry didn't know, but what he did know was that he didn't like the feeling of losing her.

"She would have said good-bye, you know," Imam said. "She truly loved you."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked grumpily. "She didn't even know me."

"She knew you better than anyone, Harry," Imam said, apparently smiling. "She has been watching you since before you were even born. She knew you, I think, better than you know yourself. She fell in love before you two even met."

Harry scoffed, crossing his arms. "Do all the Primes get this treatment?"

Imam laughed loudly.

"I wish! No, she has always claimed that her heart has belonged to someone else ever since she received the Gift of Sight. I think it is safe to assume that that someone was you. And you gave her a very good final few weeks with the man she loved for so long at long last. She wanted me to tell you that she was grateful, and she wishes you the best of luck."

"Why isn't she here to tell me herself?" Harry asked, and the Imam chuckled in response.

"Would you have let her go?"

Harry didn't need to answer that. They both knew, and Elvina too, apparently, that Harry would never have let her go if she stayed.

"So... what now?"

"Now, we leave," Imam said. "Get dressed."

And he did. Once Harry was dressed and ready, he found himself standing next to Imam, staring at the cave wall next to the bed. Imam grabbed his arm, then pressed his hand against the wall.

There was a bright flash of light, blinding Harry, and he all of a sudden felt the biting cold of the snowstorm on his face. He opened his eyes, to find himself standing in the exact spot he had been standing in when Imam dropped him into Elvina's cave.

"This is where we part," Imam said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "If you want to get off the mountain easier, just use your Animagus form."

With a wink, Imam jumped into the air, and in a second an eagle had taken his place. It gave off a piercing cry, and then flew away. Harry felt like an idiot. Why hadn't he thought of that? Wolves were well-suited to handle cold environments... He shook his head as he transformed, and then set off down the mountain.

–

_Dear Albus,_

_I found the First. She was a pretty pleasant person. Do not ask me what we did or what we talked about, for I will not tell. All I can tell you is that I am stronger now. I am heading back for Britain now. Expect me back within the week. As soon as I get back, you will know, because I am intending on setting up the portal to Avalon in your office, now that the Malfoys are hiding in Grimmauld Place. Well, maybe not your office... I'm thinking the Shrieking Shack._

_Please let Hermione know that I will be coming to see her when I get back on my way to your office. I think she may like the presents I have for her._

_Well, I'll see you in a week!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry_

Dumbledore stared at the letter for a moment in concern as he sat in his office. Something had changed about Harry. Before, his handwriting was smooth and very average, but now... his style was slimmer, more slanting than normal. Dumbledore had gone through the exact change. His heart was healing at the time, his mind calmer than ever, when he adopted his thin, slanting writing style...

Had something happened on that mountain? Dumbledore didn't know, but he suspected that Harry had, indeed, come out stronger after his visit. He was just hoping that Harry hadn't lost what he, himself, had lost after his partnership with Gellert Grindelwald.

Although asexuality worked perfectly for Dumbledore, who was now too old to bother with relationships and the like, Harry was still young, and to be so emotionally scarred that he lost his ability to love at that tender age... Dumbledore shuddered to think about it...

–

Harry took a good, long look around. He was standing in a snowy lane under a ark blue sky, in which the night's first stars were already glimmering feebly. Cottages stood on either side of the narrow road, Christmas decorations twinkling in their windows. A short way ahead of him, a glow of golden streetlights indicated the center of the village.

The cold hardly even bothered Harry as he made his way forward. This was nothing compared to Elvina's mountain. Harry felt a pang of hurt as he thought about Elvina. He didn't quite understand everything he was feeling. He had only been with her for a few weeks, yet thinking of her brought all kinds of emotions, anger, depression, joy, everything... He did as she had asked, though, and forced himself to avoid dwelling on it. Instead, he focused on where he was, Godric's Hollow.

Any of the cottages he passed might have been the one in which Lily and James Potter had once lived. Harry gazed at the front doors, their snow-burdened roofs, and their front porches, wondering whether he remembered any of them. Deep inside, he knew that it was impossible, but one could still hope.

The little lane he walked along curved to the left and the heart of the village, a small square, was revealed to him.

Strung all around with colored lights, there was what looked like a war memorial in the middle, partly obscured by a windblown Christmas tree. There were several shops, a post office, a pub, and a little church whose stained-glass windows were glowing jewel-bright across the square.

The snow here had become impacted, so it was hard and slippery where people had walked on it all day. Villagers were crisscrossing in front of him, their figures briefly illuminated by streetlamps. He heard a snatch of laughter and pop music as the pub door opened and closed. They, he heard a carol start up inside the little church.

Was it Christmas Eve already? In all honesty, Harry had completely lost track of time on his journey around the world searching for the Seventh. He was glad he had already gotten presents for everyone he cared about. After all, it would be the perfect way to quell their anger at his spontaneous departure. Especially Hermione's anger.

There, behind the war memorial, was the graveyard... His parents' graves were there... Harry felt a thrill of something that felt like a mix between fear and excitement. Slowly, he moved across the square. Halfway across, however, he stopped dead.

The war memorial had transformed as he approached. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy white caps.

Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents' faces. He had never imagined that there would be a statue... How strange it was to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his forehead...

Once he had looked his fill, Harry turned toward the church. As he crossed the road, he glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the statue had turned back into the war memorial.

The singing grew louder as he approached the church. It reminded Harry of Hogwarts, of Peeves bellowing rude versions of carols from inside the suits of armor, or the Great Hall's twelve Christmas trees, of Dumbledore wearing a bonnet he had won in a cracker... He was missing that place, the first place he could truly call home...

There was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Harry pushed it open and edged through. On either side of the slippery path to the church doors, the snow lay deep and untouched. He moved off through the snow, carving a deep trench behind him as he walked around the building.

Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections from the stained glass hit the snow. His grip tightening on his walking stick, Harry moved toward the nearest grave. Abbott... probably some long-lost relation of Hannah's...

He waded deeper and deeper into the graveyard, gouging dark tracks into the snow behind him, stooping to peer at the words on old headstones.

Harry stopped at one gravestone and went wide-eyed when he saw, upon the frozen, lichen-spotted granite, the words _**Kendra Dumbledore**_ and, a short way below her dates of birth and death, _**and her daughter Ariana**_. There was also a quotation:

_Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

So, this was Dumbledore's mother and sister, huh? Harry reached down and touched the gravestone, then moved away from it. Every now and then he recognized a surname that, like Abbott, he had met at Hogwarts. Sometimes there were several generations of the same Wizarding family represented in the graveyard. Harry could tell from the dates that it had either died out, or the current members had moved away from Godric's Hollow. Deeper and deeper amongst the graves he went, and every time he reached a new headstone he felt a little lurch of apprehension and anticipation.

The darkness and the silence seemed to become, all of a sudden, much deeper. Harry looked around, thinking of dementors immediately, but then realized that the carols had finished, that the chatter and flurry of churchgoers were fading away as they made their way back into the square. Somebody inside the church had just turned off the lights.

Then, he found it...

The headstone was only two rows behind Kendra and Ariana's. It was made of white marble, and this made it easy to read, as it seemed to shine in the dark. Harry didn't need to kneel or even approach very close to it to make out the words engraved on it.

_**JAMES POTTER**_

_**Born 27 March 1960**_

_**Died 31 October 1981**_

Next to James's name was Lily's.

_**LILY POTTER**_

_**Born 30 January 1960**_

_**Died 31 October 1981**_

Underneath the names was a quotation, just like on Kendra and Ariana's headstone.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Harry read the names, the dates, and the words slowly, over and over again. So this was where his parents lay... Tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face. He let them fall, he wasn't ashamed. His lips were pressed together hard as he looked down at the thick snow that was hiding the place where the last of Lily and James lay.

Harry waved his hand in a circle, and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed in front of him. He caught it in the air and laid it on his parents' grave.

"Hi, mum... Hi, dad..." Harry muttered softly to the headstones, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "It's been too long, and I'm sure you're a little upset that I haven't visited before now, but here I am. I would love to see you both, you know. I have something here that could help me with that."

Slowly, he reached up and removed the Gaunt ring from his finger, staring at it. All he had to do was turn it three times in his hand, and he'd be able to see his parents again...

"But... I suppose you wouldn't like being pulled out of the afterlife, would you?" Harry asked as he put on the ring again. "But don't worry, though, I will see you again," he said and turned away. "But not yet..."

With that, Harry walked away, past Dumbledore's mother and sister, past the dark church, and through the kissing gate. AS he reached the slippery pavement, he noticed that the pub was fuller than before. Many voices inside it were now singing the carol that Harry had heard as he approached the church.

Instead of obeying his first impulse to go inside, he instead headed down the dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which he had entered. He could make out the point where the cottages ended and the lane turned into open country again.

Once more, Harry stopped dead when he saw a dark mass that stood at the very end of this row of houses. His eyes widening, he rushed toward it, feeling drawn to it in some way. As he drew closer, he could see it. The Fidelius Charm must have died with Lily and James. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart. That, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired. He stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

Slowly, Harry reached down and grasped the snowy and thickly rusted gate. He didn't want to open it, but simply to hold some part of the house, some part of his past.

His touch on the gate had triggered a charm, as a sign rose out of the ground in front of him, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters on the wood it said:

_**On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,**_

_**Lily and James Potter lost their lives.**_

_**Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard**_

_**ever to have survived the Killing Curse.**_

_**This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left**_

_**in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters**_

_**and as a reminder of the violence**_

_**that tore apart their family.**_

And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink, others had carved their initials into the woods, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.

_Good luck, Harry, wherever you are._

_If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!_

_Long live Harry Potter!_

Harry smiled softly. He felt honored that he had so many people to believe in him. He would have continued reading the scribbles, if he hadn't suddenly detected a scent in the air. Getting in tune with his spirit animal had heightened his senses considerably. He could now proudly say that he, without a doubt, had a nose as good as a dog's.

So when Harry picked up on what smelled like dead meat, he slowly turned around, and saw that a heavily muffled figure was hobbling up the lane toward them, silhouetted by the bright lights in the distant square.

On his travels, Harry had smelled a lot of people. He had smelled young people, old people, sick people, healthy people, dying people, but no one had smelled quite like this small, slowly woman who was approaching Harry. Her stoop, her stoutness, and her shuffling gait all gave an impression of extreme age, but it didn't change the fact that the woman smelled... well, dead. Like rotten meat.

At last, the woman came to a halt a few yards from Harry, and simply stood there in the middle of the frozen road, facing him. Wait, there was another scent in the air... Smelled like...

"_Nice disguise,"_ Harry hissed in Parseltongue with a smirk. The woman's eyes widened. _"It doesn't work too well on someone with the nose of a wolf, however, Nagini."_

Harry didn't give Nagini any time to do anything. He closed the distance between them and gabbed the end of his walking stick into the old woman's chest. A great snake was blown out of the woman's back in a flash of light, and the woman, as if she was only a skin costume, sagged to the ground in a heap.

Harry's scar, for the first time in a long time, started prickling painfully as the snake struck at Harry, whose finger twitched toward her. The snow underneath at Harry's feet, in a nanosecond, formed into a hard spike made out of ice and shot straight up, through Nagini's gob and out through the back of her skull. He killed her much the same as when he slew the Basilisk back in his second year.

His scar started prickling even more painfully, and right before Harry slammed down his Occlumency shields, he felt a surge of incredible rage from Voldemort. Smirking to himself, Harry walked over to the dead snake and reached down, grabbing her head and lifting her up. She was extremely heavy.

Then, Harry and the snake disappeared.

–

With a sharp crack of Apparition, Harry appeared on a country lane looking ahead to the crooked silhouette of his second favorite building in the world, the Burrow. He had originally been planning on going to Hogwarts, but the letter sent to him via Fawkes by Dumbledore convinced him to change his plans.

_Dear Harry,_

_Although I am worried about you (that statement was rather ominous, after all), I am pleased to hear that you are alive and well, and I will be expecting you soon. However, I would prefer if it you were to avoid coming to Hogwarts. It would be better if you went to the Burrow instead. Miss Granger will be there, along with Sirius, Remus, and the rest of the 'gang.' They will all, I am sure, be very pleased to see you._

_I will see you then, Harry!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus_

Harry smiled to himself as he passed through the gate. He would finally get to see everyone again. There was a lot of noise coming from the house, and there were lights on everywhere. Harry guessed that they had just finished eating dinner. They were probably in the process of handing out Christmas presents.

Harry approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons. He raised his hand and knocked three times rather loudly, hearing the noise from inside die down immediately.

"Who goes there?" came the calm voice of Lupin from inside, though Harry could imagine that he had his wand out.

"It is I, the ghost of Prongs!" Harry announced loudly. "I have come back from the grave to annoy you all to death with Christmas carols, the Peeves' special editions!"

Immediately, the door was flung open, and Harry saw Lupin's ecstatic face. He looked rather younger than he had before, and his face was lit up by a bright smile.

"Harry!" he exclaimed as he brought Harry in for a tight hug, which he returned happily.

"Happy Christmas, Moony," Harry said, patting his almost-uncle on the back. Lupin let Harry go and allowed him to step over the threshold, closing the door after him.

"Harry is back!" Lupin called happily, and Harry immediately heard footsteps from the living room. A stream of people poured from the doorway, with Hermione and Sirius at the front, both of them almost tackling him as they hugged him.

"Happy Christmas, everyone," Harry said with a smile as he hugged them both back. Behind them, he could see the Weasley family standing there, along with Dumbledore and... a pregnant Tonks.

"What's with the mutton chops?" Fred asked, his arms crossed as he stood next to his brother.

"I got used to the beard, so I didn't want to shave my face clean," Harry said with a shrug as he ran a hand over his mutton chops. "Besides, I think they add to my wolfish qualities."

"Welcome back, Harry," Dumbledore said once Hermione and Sirius broke their hugs. "How was your trip?"

"Eventful," Harry said with a grin. "Oh, and I have something to show you, Albus," he said, which earned him curious looks from the others, and they were probably more curious about the fact that he'd called Dumbledore Albus than about what he had to show him. He unzipped his jacket and showed off his shiny new snake-skin belt. "Meet Nagini."

Dumbledore went wide-eyed with surprise, along with everyone else, though since he and Hermione were the only ones who knew Nagini was a Horcrux, they were the most surprised.

"I ran into her yesterday," Harry continued, reaching into the neck of his shirt to pull out a necklace around his neck, which was a thin leather strap with a fang from Nagini hanging from it. "She was in Godric's Hollow, impersonating some ancient old lady when I was visiting my parents' graves. I smelled that her disguise was dead and rotting, though, so she dropped it and attacked, but I managed to kill her."

"My boy, this is wonderful news!" Dumbledore said jovially. "Very well done!"

"Now, what say we take this to the living room?" Harry asked as he looked around with a smile. "I have presents!"

Within moments, Harry found himself sitting in the couch in the living room of the Burrow. To his right sat Sirius, and to his left sat Hermione. They both looked very eager to ask about where he'd been.

"We can talk about the trip after I have handed out the presents. First, for Hermione..." Harry reached into his pocket, which he had magically enlarged to fit all his presents. He pulled out an Arabic oil lamp made of gold, much like the one containing the Desert of the Damned. "...I give you your own study!"

"Er..." Hermione looked confused as she took the lamp. "Study?"

"My friend Imam in Egypt designed it," Harry said with a grin. "Have you ever heard of the Genie in the Lamp?"

"Of course I have," Hermione said, still inspecting the lamp.

"Rub the lamp," Harry said. Hermione, looking skeptical, did as she was told, and gasps went through the room when Hermione was suddenly sucked straight into the lamp, which landed softly on the couch. Harry sat in silence as he stared at the lamp. He grabbed it and set it down on the floor, because three seconds later, Hermione appeared standing above it with a pop accompanied by a small cloud of smoke.

"Harry, that's amazing!" Hermione exclaimed as she reached down, hugging Harry tightly. "Thank you! It even has a library, and a bed, and everything!"

"I thought you might enjoy that," Harry said, chuckling as Hermione sat down again, cradling the lamp. "And you better be grateful. I had to trade my phial of Felix Felicis for it. Now, for Sirius..."

Sirius leaned forward expectantly as Harry dug around in his pocket. Then, finally, his hand came up again, holding a black leather collar with spikes on it.

"...I give you a brand new collar!"

Everyone burst out laughing at the look on Sirius's face.

"Oi," Sirius said warningly. "Tread lightly, godson. This dog bites, as you well know, and I don't think I've quite forgiven you for vanishing without a word yet."

"Oh, don't worry, dearest godfather," Harry said in amusement. "It was just a joke. Your real gift is..."

Harry started digging around in his pocket again. He had a bit of trouble finding it, but after a moment, he found something.

"Oh, hey, here's Moony's gift," he said as he pulled his hand out, holding a necklace in his hand. The leather necklace had a black stone hanging from it, around the size of a butterbeer bottle cap, and the stone had several miniature rune chains carved into them. "Here you go, Moony. A shaman in Kenya blessed it and gave it to me. Supposedly, it can tame ones inner beast. The shaman told me it was for Animagi with rowdy spirit animals, but he said that it might work for werewolves, too."

"R-Really?" Lupin stuttered as he slowly reached out, taking the necklace and holding it gingerly. "Thank you, Harry!"

Harry just grunted. He was already digging through his pocket again. Finding Sirius's gift, he pulled it out of his pocket and held it out to Sirius, grinning.

"And for Sirius, this ring!"

The ring in Harry's had was silver, and had a rather large ruby on it. It was of a darker shade of red than a ruby, however. Sirius took it, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Put it on," Harry urged. Sirius did as he was told, then seemed to wait for more instructions. Harry grinned as he said, "Sirius, I think you're a horrible godfather, and I suspect you're in love with Moony."

"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed, but suddenly stopped and went wide-eyed when his ring started vibrating, and the stone on it started glowing. "Woah, what's this?"

"It's a ring that basically works as a Sneakoscope. It detects lies and general untrustworthiness around it, when it's directed at the wearer, anyway. So now, basically, no one but a very skilled Occlumens can lie to you and get away with it."

"Very nice," Sirius said, grinning. "Thanks, Harry!"

Harry gave Mr. Weasley a Muggle toy train set. Needless to say, the man was ecstatic, especially when he found out that the train ran on batteries, something that he had thousands of in his shed. Mrs. Weasley was given a set of cookware, such as pots and frying pans with memory. They could memorize the meals cooked in them, and could from then on, provided they had the ingredients, cook that same meal the exact same way without Mrs. Weasley having to keep a watchful eye on them. They were also self-cleaning, saving a lot of time for Mrs. Weasley.

Tonks and the Weasley children received gifts that Harry was originally intending on keeping for himself. He gave them the wide selection of chocolates he had bought in the different countries he had been to.

"And now, it's time for Albus," Harry said, watching in amusement as Tonks almost growled at the Weasley kids whenever they reached for a chocolate. Dumbledore, who was sitting in a chair by the fire looking quite comfortable, immediately gave Harry his full attention.

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew a book, which looked very old and tattered. The leather cover looked like it had been slashed with a knife several times. It was written in runes, something Harry had no idea how to read yet.

"What is this?" Dumbledore asked as he took the book, looking it over.

"Apparently, it's a book about magical engineering," Harry said, shrugging. "What will all the things in your office, I imagined that you enjoy designing magical items. I thought you might enjoy that."

"Oho!" Dumbledore said joyfully as he opened the book. "_The Combination of Metal and Magic_ by Mutnemidur Sumitpes! This book was thought to have been lost!" he said, directing his now twinkling eyes toward Harry. "May I ask how you got a hold of it?"

"Read the name backwards," Harry said.

Dumbledore did as he was told, and immediately started chuckling in amusement. Read backwards, the name read Septimus Rudimentum, which meant Seventh Prime in Latin, something that Imam found to be a good name for when he wrote the book.

"Thank you, Harry."

"But wait, there's more," Harry said, now pulling a crystal bowl out of his pocket. It was about a foot in diameter, and equally deep. "I know how much you like sweets, so I bought you a candy bowl."

"A candy bowl?" Dumbledore asked curiously. Harry was disappointed to see that he was expecting it to have some special quality to it. He had been hoping to surprise Dumbledore with it.

"It's a candy bowl capable of replicating any candy that has ever touched it. I have already taken the liberty of filling it with a wide variety of candies. Just watch."

Harry reached out to the bowl and tapped it with his finger. With a mutter of "Chocolate pocky," the bowl was suddenly filled with the biscuit sticks coated with chocolate, which made Dumbledore's eyes widen in amused surprise.

"Oho, thank you, Harry! Thank you very much!"

"And now, Harry, you may start telling us where you've been these last six months," Lupin said, his new necklace dangling from his neck.

"Oh, where to start..." Harry trailed off, humming. "Well, I started off my trip by journeying to France. Fleur had asked me to bring a package back to her family for her. The Delacours were surprisingly pleasant people. I thought they were going to be snobs, but they weren't. Then, I immediately left France for Spain, going from there to Morocco..."

He talked well into the night about his journeys to, among others, Mali, Niger, Char, Sudan, Ethiopia, and Kenya.

By the time Harry was done, everyone were so tired that they had to go to sleep. Mrs. Weasley had offered Harry a room, but he declined, saying that he would be spending the night in Avalon. Now, however, he was standing in silence in the kitchen, staring out the window. Dumbledore had gone, as had Lupin and Tonks, while the Weasleys and Hermione had all gone to bed. Sirius was still there, but the last Harry had seen of him, he was fast asleep on the couch.

"You really look like an adult," came Sirius's voice from the doorway. Obviously, he wasn't asleep like Harry believed. Harry grunted in response. He heard Sirius approaching him. "You look like a rebel with that jacket on, like a man who really doesn't want to do what is expected of him."

"That's the impression I give?" Harry asked in amusement as he looked back at Sirius, who was smiling at him. "No, I just like the jacket. I am perfectly willing to do what is expected of me."

"And that is what makes you such an admirable man," Sirius said, stepping closer to Harry and reaching into his pocket. "Since you left before your birthday, I couldn't give you your present. I've been carrying it on me all the time, in case you suddenly decided to come back. And now you are, so I can finally give it to you."

Sirius pulled out a small, square parcel and held it out to Harry, who took it and unwrapped it. Inside was a shiny gold pocket watch, which looked almost brand new. It was covered by a lid, which had the coat of arms of the Potter house (a shield with the English flag under two lions facing each other on it) engraved on it.

"Your father had that made on the day you were born," Sirius said fondly. "I was with him when he did it. He was going to give it to you when you came of age, as is traditional. When he died, the duty to give it to you fell on me. I've had it polished, of course. Wouldn't do to give you a dirty watch. Congratulations, Harry."

Harry opened the lid of the watch. Inside the lid, there was writing.

_**Harry James Potter**_

_**The pride of Lily and James**_

"Sirius, this..." Harry swallowed. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he just hugged his godfather.

"I hate this," Sirius muttered as he returned the hug. "You were already a man when we finally met... I wanted to corrupt you a bit in your impressionable years..."

The two laughed as they broke the hug. Harry pocketed the watch. It meant more to him than Sirius suspected. This was not just a gift, or just a memory of his parents. This was a gift from his parents, proof that they had loved him. Sure, people had talked about it, and Lily's sacrifice was more than enough to show it, but now he had material proof of their love for him. It made him feel really good to think about it.

–

"Potter! Good to see you again!"

Harry waved at a Hufflepuff sixth-year as he walked through Hogwarts. Merlin, he had truly missed this place. Even the smells filled him up with nostalgia. If this was how he acted coming back after six months or so, he was afraid to think of how he would feel if he was gone for more than a year...

He was so engulfed in his nostalgia, that he didn't notice the incoming ghost until he felt that cold, wet feeling as it passed right through him, making him cry out in surprise and snap out of his thoughts. He turned around and saw a tall ghost floating away from him. She had long, waist-length hair and a floor-length cloak.

"Hey, wait!" Harry called out suddenly, an idea hitting him like a bludger. The ghost consented to pause, floating a few inches from the ground as she turned to him. Harry supposed that she was beautiful, but she also looked haughty and proud. Close to, he recognized her as a ghost he had passed several times in the corridors, but to whom he had never spoken. "You're the Gray Lady, right?"

She nodded, but didn't speak.

"The ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?"

"That is correct."

Her tone was not encouraging.

"I was wondering if you could tell me something," Harry said curiously. He was supposed to be on his way to Dumbledore's office, but this was, he felt, more important, worth being late for. "Do you know of any of Ravenclaw's objects? Like, some powerful relic that has been passed down through the line or something, like Gryffindor's sword has been passed down in Hogwarts?"

"Might you be referring to Ravenclaw's legendary lost diadem?"

"If that is a relic of Ravenclaw, then yes, that's what I'm referring to," Harry said.

A cold smile curved the Gray Lady's lips.

"I am afraid," she said, turning to leave, "that I cannot help you."

"Why not?" Harry asked, blinking. He knew she was a very cold woman, but he hadn't expected her to be this cold.

"You are hardly the first student to covet the diadem," she said disdainfully. "Generations of students have badgered me-"

"This isn't just about prestige or something silly like that," Harry said, waving her off, acting like he wasn't affected by her personality. He had found that that was the best way to deal with people like her. "This could help defeat Voldemort. Or aren't you interested in that?"

She couldn't blush, but her transparent cheeks became more opaque, and her voice was heated as she replied, "Of course I... how dare you suggest...?"

"Then please, help me."

Her composure was slipping.

"It... it is not a question of..." she stammered. "My mother's diadem..."

"Your mother's?"

She looked angry with herself.

"When I lived," she said stiffly, "I was Helena Ravenclaw."

"You're her daughter?" Harry asked, his eyes wide with surprise. He certainly hadn't expected that one. "Then you know what might have happened to it?"

"While the diadem bestows wisdom," the Gray Lady said with an obvious effort to pull herself together, "I doubt that it would greatly increase your chances of defeating the wizard who calls himself Lord-"

"Pardon me, madam, but that isn't why I want it at all," Harry said. "But if Voldemort is to be defeated, I need you to tell me anything you know about the diadem."

She remained still, floating in midair, staring down at him. Harry was starting to regret asking. Had she known, she probably would have told one of the teachers or headmasters, who had no doubt asked her the same question. He had shaken his head and was about to apologize for bothering her when she spoke in a low voice.

"I stole the diadem from my mother."

"You what?" Harry asked, his eyes widening once more.

"I stole the diadem," Helena Ravenclaw repeated in a whisper. "I sought to make myself cleverer, more important than my mother. I ran away with it."

Harry didn't know what he had done to get her to confide in him, but he didn't ask. He simply listened carefully.

"My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she had it still. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts.

"Then my mother fell ill... fatally ill. In spite of my perfidy, she was desperate to see me one more time. She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so."

Harry waited as Helena drew a deep breath and threw back her head.

"He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The Baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me."

"The Baron?" Harry asked. "The Bloody Baron?"

"Yes," Helena said, and she lifted aside the cloak she wore to reveal a single dark wound in her white chest. "When he saw what he had done, he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life, and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he still wears his chains as an act of penitence... as he should," she added bitterly.

"And the diadem?"

"It remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree."

"A hollow tree," Harry repeated. That wasn't much to go on. "What tree? Where was this?"

"A forest in Albania. A lonely place I thought was far beyond my mother's reach."

Albania... Harry was suddenly reminded of what he had heard in that graveyard after Voldemort's resurrection... _"His filthy little friends told him there was a place, deep in an Albanian forest, that they avoided, where small animals like themselves had met their deaths by a dark shadow that possessed them..."_ That was when Harry realized why Helena hadn't told Dumbledore or Flitwick about the diadem, even though they too had probably asked.

"You've already told someone this story, haven't you? Another student?"

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"I had... no idea... He was... flattering. He seemed to... to understand... to sympathize..."

"Don't feel bad about it," Harry said. Usually, this was the part where he'd reach out and give her a reassuring pat, but he was sure that would just offend her. "Tom Riddle was a very good actor."

But even if Voldemort had found the diadem, he probably wouldn't have left it in a lowly tree in Albania... No, he would have brought it back to Britain, where he could check up on it if he wished...

"Thank you," Harry said happily. This would certainly be something to tell Dumbledore! "Thank you!"

With that, he placed a kiss on Helena's cheek. It wasn't quite a real kiss, but it was as close as he could get. He felt his lips make contact with the cold, transparent cheek of the ghost, then kissed.

"Really, thank you!" he said again, before turning and running off, leaving a ghost behind him that appeared to be blushing, in her own ghostly way. She seemed to be saying something, but Harry was too far away to hear her. He felt like he was about to burst with excitement.

–

When Harry burst into Dumbledore's office without knocking, he found the old wizard behind his desk, apparently deep in thought, as he seemed very surprised by Harry's sudden entrance, judging by how far his eyebrows rose.

"Harry," he said, his voice showing his surprise. "You are late. I was beginning to think you would not be showing up."

"Sorry, Albus," Harry said as he strode up to Dumbledore's desk. "I stopped to have a chat with the Gray Lady."

"Asking about any of Ravenclaws relics, I assume?" Dumbledore asked. "I am frightfully sorry, Harry, but I have already tried that."

"But I succeeded, Albus," Harry said with a smile. "She told me."

Harry was sure that he was the only person in the world who had been able to surprise Dumbledore as many times as he had, and it made him feel very proud when he saw Dumbledore's eyebrows once more rise. He went on to retell the tale the Gray Lady told him about everything. Once he was done, Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of him, appearing deep in thought.

"Harry, would you consent to once more joining me inside my Pensieve?" he asked finally as he rose from his chair, walking up to the cabinet that held the stone basin. "I have a memory I wish to show you."

"Whose memory?" Harry asked as Dumbledore brought the Pensieve over to the desk and set it down. Then, he raised his wand to his temple and pulled out a silvery memory, casting it into the basin.

"Mine."

Harry dived after Dumbledore through the shifting silver mass, landing in the very office he had just left. There was Fawkes slumbering happily on his perch, and there behind the desk was Dumbledore, who looked very similar to the Dumbledore standing beside Harry, though his face was, perhaps, a little less lined.

The younger Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for something, and sure enough, moments after their arrival, there was a knock on the door and he said, "Enter."

None other than Voldemort entered the room. His features weren't those Harry had seen emerge from the great stone cauldron back in fourth year. They weren't as snake-like, the eyes weren't scarlet yet, the face wasn't mask-like, and yet he was no longer handsome Tom Riddle. It was as if his features had been burned and blurred. They were waxy and oddly distorted, and the whites of the eyes now had a permanently bloody look, though the pupils weren't slits yet, as Harry knew they would become. He was wearing a long black cloak, and his face was as pale as the snow glistening on his shoulders.

The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no sign of surprise. Evidently, this visit had been made by appointment.

"Good evening, Tom," Dumbledore said easily. "Won't you sit down?"

"Thank you," Voldemort said, and he took the seat to which Dumbledore had gestured, the very seat Harry had sat in so many times. "I heard that you had become headmaster," he said, and his voice was slightly higher and colder than it had been. "A worthy choice."

"I am glad you approve," Dumbledore said, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"

"That would be welcome," Voldemort said. "I have come a long way."

Dumbledore stood and swept over to the cabinet where he now kept the Pensieve, but which then was full of bottles. Having handed Voldemort a goblet of wine and poured one for himself, he returned to the seat behind his desk.

"So, Tom... to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Voldemort didn't answer at once, but merely sipped his wine.

"They do not call me Tom anymore," he said. "There days, I am known as-"

"I know what you are known as," Dumbledore said, smiling pleasantly. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of the irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."

He raised his glass as though toasting Voldemort, whose face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, Harry felt the atmosphere in the room change subtly. Dumbledore's refusal to use Voldemort's chosen name was a refusal to allow Voldemort to dictate the terms of the meeting, and Harry could tell that Voldemort took it as such.

"I am surprised you have remained here so long," Voldemort said after a short pause. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."

"Well," Dumbledore said, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching, too."

"I see it still," Voldemort said. "I merely wondered why you, who are so often asked for advice by the Ministry, and who have twice, I think, been offered the post of Minister-"

"Three times at the last count, actually," Dumbledore said. "But the Ministry never attracted me as a career. Again, something we have in common, I think."

Voldemort inclined his head, unsmiling, and took another sip of wine. Dumbledore didn't break the silence that stretched between them now, but waited, with a look of pleasant expectancy, for Voldemort to talk first.

"I have returned," he said after a while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected... but I have returned, nevertheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to you to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know that I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."

Dumbledore considered Voldemort over the top of his own goblet for a while before speaking.

"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."

Voldemort's expression remained impassive as he said, "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spit, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."

"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" Dumbledore asked delicately.

"Certainly," Voldemort said, and his eyes seemed to burn red. "I have experimented. I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed-"

"Of some kinds of magic," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "Of come. Of others, you remain... forgive me... woefully ignorant."

For the first time, Voldemort smiled. It was a taut leer, an evil thing, more threatening than a look of rage.

"The old argument," he said softly. "But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncements that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore."

"Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places," Dumbledore suggested.

"Well, then, what better place to start my fresh researches than here, at Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked. "Will you let me return? Will you let me share my knowledge with your students? I place myself and my talents at your disposal. I am yours to command."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "And what will become of those whom _you_ command? What will happen to those who call themselves, or so rumor has it, the Death Eaters?"

Harry could tell that Voldemort hadn't expected Dumbledore to know this name. He was Voldemort's eyes flash red again and the slit-like nostrils flare.

"My friends," he said after a moment's pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."

"I am glad to hear that you consider them friends," Dumbledore said. "I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants."

"You are mistaken," Voldemort said.

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them, Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov, awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

There was no doubt that Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of those with whom he was traveling was even less welcome to Voldemort. However, he rallied almost at once.

"You are omniscient as ever, Dumbledore."

"Oh no, merely friendly with the local barmen," Dumbledore said lightly. "Now, Tom..."

Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture.

"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"

Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."

"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"

Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job-"

"Of course I don't," Dumbledore said. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."

Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"

"It is," Dumbledore said, also standing.

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."

"No, nothing," Dumbledore said, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom... I wish I could..."

For a second, it looked as though Voldemort's hand twitched toward his pocket and his wand, but then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone.

Harry felt Dumbledore's hand close over his arm, and moment later, they were standing together in the real Dumbledore's office once more.

"My sources told me that he had made his way back from Albania at the time," Dumbledore said as he moved around his desk and sat down again, while Harry sat down in the chair that Voldemort had sat in in the memory. "I was wondering what he was doing back here. You just told me, Harry."

"You... You believe he hid it here? In the castle?" Harry asked incredulously. "Under your very nose?"

"It is plausible," Dumbledore said, nodding. "No doubt, Voldemort believed himself to have been the one to have discovered more secrets in this castle than anyone else. Surely, it is not impossible for him to have hidden it in a place where he believed that only he could find it."

"We can rule out the Chamber of Secrets," Harry said with a hum as he leaned back. "After all, reckless as he may be hiding it here in the castle, I don't think he'd be dumb enough to hide it so close to one of the few things that can destroy a Horcrux."

"Oho, have you been reading up on them, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, sounding pleased.

"I asked the..." Harry paused and took a breath. "...the First if she knew how to destroy them. She told me that only very few things could destroy a Horcrux, only two of which I have access to, Basilisk venom and Fiendfyre."

"Indeed. However, I have been thinking," Dumbledore said, and Harry was grateful that he didn't ask about the First, even if he knew that he wanted to, "about that nifty room of yours, where you held meetings with your Order two years ago."

"The Room of Requirement?" Harry asked. "Yes, I could see why he'd think he was the only one who knew its location..."

"I know it is too much to ask, Harry, I know that finding the Horcruxes was my duty, but-"

"Don't worry, Albus," Harry interrupted Dumbledore with a smile as he stood up. "Just leave it to me."

"Thank you, Harry," Dumbledore, rising as well. "In the meantime, I shall try to locate Hufflepuff's cup. Take this..."

Dumbledore turned around and grabbed the ruby-inlaid handle of the Sword of Gryffindor. He took it off the wall and held it out to Harry, who took it, looking it over nostalgically.

"This brings back a few memories," Harry said with a chuckle. "However, I am more of a rapier-user, so..."

He closed his eyes and concentrated. As he concentrated, he felt the metal in his hand change shape. According to a few laws of magic, goblin-wrought silver was supposed to be impossible to alter through magic. That was yet another law Harry felt like breaking. When he opened his eyes again, the sword had changed greatly. It was now a rapier with a very beautiful guard. The handle was still inlaid with rubies, and the guard had a roaring lion engraved on the guard. Looking at Dumbledore's face, he saw that the man was very, very surprised at seeing him do something like that.

"This seems better," Harry said, satisfied, as he wandlessly conjured a scabbard for the sword and sheathed it, attaching it to his belt. "I don't see why I should need it, though."

"Can you think of no reason?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. Harry thought hard, but couldn't really come up with anything. Then, it came to him.

"The Basilisk," Harry said, snapping his finger. "Goblin silver imbibes that which strengthens it... So when I killed the Basilisk..."

"It was impregnated with the Basilisk venom, yes," Dumbledore said, sounding pleased. "Now, while you go and attempt to acquire the diadem, I will be busy with the much harder task of acquiring the cup of Hufflepuff."

"Can't find it, then?"

"I believe I know where it is," Dumbledore said. "Severus has told me that has given Bellatrix Lestrange something golden to keep in her vault at Gringotts for him."

"And you believe it is the cup?"

"I am guessing, but again, my guesses are usually correct."

"Correct to the point where it's starting to get annoying," Harry grumbled as he crossed his arms, and Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, I guess I should head to the Room of Requirement, then. Got a lot of searching to do."

"Good luck, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile as Harry left the office.

–

_I need the place where the diadem is hidden_, Harry thought to himself as he walked back and forth along the wall hiding the doorway to the Room of Requirement. On his third pass, he saw the door materialize. He grinned to himself as he opened it. Then he was right about the diadem.

This room was amazing. He was standing in a room the size of a cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by teetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items. There were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks... there were what looked like dragon eggshell, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.

"Accio diadem!" Harry called, then waited.

Nothing. Alright, so he had to look for it, then. That would be so easy... He sighed as he started walking, looking around. He was amazed at how many things had been hidden in this room over the years. Someone had even hidden a jar filled with a yellowish liquid in there. The jar had a severed hand floating in it.

For an hour, he searched, not finding a single thing. It was starting to get very annoying. How in Merlin's name could anyone keep track of where things was in this place? And there were so many headpieces that looked like diadems in this room. Like the one on that ugly old warlock bust with the curly wig. Harry stopped and looked back at the warlock bust he just passed... In fact, exactly like the only on the ugly old warlock bust with the curly wig!

He closed his eyes and sent out a pulse of magic toward the diadem on top of the bust. What returned to him was foul, a type of magic that sickened him. Yes, this was definitely it...

Harry reached up and grabbed the diadem, looking it over. There was writing on it. 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.' Yeah, this was Ravenclaw's alright. Smiling to himself, he set it down on the floor and unsheathed his rapier.

It almost hurt him to do this to one of the relics of the Founders. One of the traits he shared with Voldemort was that he loved Hogwarts and everything about it. Taking a deep breath, he stabbed the sword down at the diadem.

As soon as the tip pierced it, Harry felt a tingle in his scar, and a weak, distant scream of pain as a thick, black substance started pouring out of the diadem.

Harry reached down, picking up the diadem and cleaning it with a wave of his hand. He was very happy that he had transformed the sword into a rapier, as the stab on the diadem was hardly even noticeable. Even the tiniest amount of Basilisk venom was enough to destroy a Horcrux, so he didn't have to do much to it.

–

**Finished! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

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	11. Chapter 11

**Alright, final chapter, you guys! I admit, it's not exactly the most eventful story of them all, but in my defense, it is my first Harry Potter fanfic.**

**Enjoy!**

–

"So that makes it five: Nagini, the locket, the ring, the diadem, and the diary," Dumbledore said, sitting behind his desk as he gazed upon the diadem on top of it. Harry sat in his usual seat, feeling very satisfied. "That leaves the cup of Hufflepuff, which I am certain resides in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. I am currently working on getting it. The goblins are proving most cooperative, after the goblin Griphook returned to the Gringotts."

"Griphook?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why, did something happen to him?"

"It would appear that he and his brother Gornuk ran into some Death Eaters around a week ago," Dumbledore explained. "They tried to intimidate the goblins into joining Voldemort. When they resisted, Gornuk was killed in an escape attempt. Griphook was gravely wounded, but managed to flee. I wish for you, Harry, to write a letter to Ragnok, the goblin king and manager of Gringotts."

"Me?" Harry asked incredulously. "Hey now, Albus, I know I am the Chosen One and all that, but I highly doubt that the king of the goblins would listen to me simply because of that."

"Oh, it is not your status as the Chosen One that will convince Ragnok of your good intentions toward the goblins," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "It is your status as the Ninth that will convince him. After all, it was the First Prime who helped Gringott build the bank in Diagon Alley, and she helped take the first step toward goblin-human coexistence. I am sure that, if you tell him that you are the Ninth Prime, and that you have met with the First, he..." Dumbledore trailed of, no doubt noticing the pained look on Harry's face, which he had been unable to hide. "...he might be persuaded into letting you take a single item out of Bellatrix's vault."

"I can see your point." Harry nodded slowly as he collected himself. "I'll send him the letter. After all, it doesn't hurt to try."

"Harry," Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eye disappearing as he leaned forward, looking concerned. "Forgive me for my abrupt rudeness, but may I ask what happened during your meeting with the First?"

Harry sighed. He knew Dumbledore would ask some time.

"I fell in love with a woman who had, apparently, been in love with me for hundreds of years," he said after a few moments of silence, seeing Dumbledore's eyebrows rise in surprise. "She... She put a love potion in my drink when I first arrived. It wasn't a real love potion, just something that would speed up the inevitable," he added quickly at Dumbledore's shocked look. "Then, she left me, passing on to the next life... Imam told me that she didn't want it, but that it was necessary in order for my heart to grow stronger."

"And did it?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"I believe so," Harry said, nodding slowly. "I... It hurts, you know? But at the same time... I can't explain it. I'm grateful to Elvina. I don't know how, but I loved her, and still do, more than anything else. I can still feel her, like she's right behind me, watching over me. It fills me with confidence, and wipes away all doubts in my mind."

"I am pleased to hear that, Harry," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Let me just say that I am very proud of you at the way you are handling your loss. You are a better man than I am."

"I assume the whole thing with Grindelwald hit your pretty hard?" Harry guessed, to which Dumbledore nodded.

"Indeed... Gellert was... Did he tell you...?"

"He told me of your feelings," Harry confirmed.

"Gellert was everything I wanted in a life partner. Gender did not matter to me. It was his skills, and magical power, that attracted me. After his betrayal, I... I could not bring myself to fall in love again. I was worried that you may have suffered the same fate," Dumbledore said, heaving a great sigh.

Harry was surprised. He didn't think he'd ever seen Dumbledore with his guard down as much as it was now. It made Harry feel good to know that Dumbledore trusted him enough to drop his guard like that.

"Well, you know what they say," Harry said, shrugging with a smile. "It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. We are a shining example of that, compared to someone like Voldemort."

"Well said, Harry," Dumbledore said, chuckling, "well said."

–

As Harry stepped into Gringotts, he felt very uncomfortable. Every goblin that he got within a few feet of were giving him scrutinizing looks. They were filled with neither trust nor distrust, and it greatly unnerved Harry. He preferred it when they just gave him distrustful looks. At least he could read those looks.

As Dumbledore requested, Harry had sent a letter to Ragnok, but he didn't tell him what he wanted. Instead, he simply requested a meeting, a request he was surprised to find was approved in the reply he got just a few hours later. He hadn't expected the goblin king to agree to a meeting so readily, although he suspected that his title of Ninth had something to do with it.

"Mr. Potter?" came a voice from behind Harry as he stood shifting in his robes. As he was expected these days to be an imposing, heroic figure, he felt it silly to run around looking like a rebel teen. Instead, he had taken some robes he found in Avalon, black with gold trim, and put them on for the meeting. He turned around, and found a goblin he recognized.

"Griphook?" he asked, his eyes widening as he saw the state of the goblin. His face was heavily scarred, and although it was only about half as scarred as Moody's face, it was still rather hideous. But he had read up on goblins. Scars were proof of bravery, apparently. He also saw that the goblin was leaning heavily on his right leg, suggesting that his left was injured.

"You remember me, Mr. Potter?"

"Of course I do," Harry said, nodding. "You were the goblin who showed me to my vault the first time I ever visited Gringotts."

"A meeting that has earned me quite a reputation, Mr. Potter," Griphook said, also nodding. "Even amongst goblins, you are very famous."

"I heard that you were captured," Harry said. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"You are sorry?" Griphook asked as he peered suspiciously at Harry, who felt his eyebrow raise in confusion. Was that rude? "You truly are an unusual wizard, Harry Potter, as the rumors tell us."

"I take it not many wizards would give a goblin their condolences?" Harry guessed, to which Griphook nodded.

"They seem to believe that we are beneath them."

"Well, I don't know about other wizards, but I sure aren't going to start insulting the people who safeguard my fortune. That would be bad for business."

Griphook gave a nasty grin.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Indeed."

Harry saw Griphook's eyes flash down to the sword strapped to his waist, but Griphook's gaze quickly moved back to lock with Harry's eyes.

"Our lord Ragnok is expecting you, Harry Potter. Follow me, please."

"After you," Harry said with a bow of his head.

Instead of going through the usual door that led to the railway system that took visitors to their vault, the two walked through another door, this one made of ebony instead of iron. The door opened up to reveal a long marble hallway, which had doors on either side, many doors, probably goblin offices. At the end of the hall was a long set of marble stairs. Griphook led Harry past all the offices and up the stairs.

They came upon a set of double doors at the top of the stairs. These doors were made of gold, with the Gringotts crest on each door. Griphook knocked once, and the doors swung open.

The office they stepped into was round. In the back stood a single desk with an ancient goblin sitting behind it. The walls were lined with bookcases and shelves filled with parchments, inks, quills, gold, silver, copper, scales of all kinds of metals, and various other tools.

"Lord Ragnok," Griphook spoke in Gobbledegook, the language of the goblins, making the ancient goblin look up. "Harry Potter is here to see you."

The goblin gave Harry a scrutinizing look, and Harry took the time to look him over. He was, indeed, ancient. His face was heavily wrinkled, the skin under his eyes sagging. His long, pointed nose was slightly crooked, his eyebrows were incredibly bushy, and his beard, which must have been the usual pointy beard on his chin in his youth had grown so long that it reached down to his chest, where it ended in a curl.

"Ah, Harry Potter," Ragnok said after a few moments of silence. Although he looked like the goblin version of Dumbledore, his voice sounded young, and still had that nasty sharpness to it that Harry had come to associate with goblins. "Welcome. You may leave us, Griphook."

"Feel better, Griphook," Harry told Griphook in Gobbledegook, which made both goblins go wide-eyed. If it was because he could speak Gobbledegook or because he wished a goblin well, he didn't know, but he could tell that they were very surprised.

"Have a good day, Harry Potter," Griphook said finally, bowing to Harry, and then to Ragnok, before leaving the office, the golden doors closing behind him.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you, Harry Potter," Ragnok spoke in Gobbledegook as he gestured for a very comfortable-looking chair in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you," Harry said as he walked across the office, sitting down. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Lord Ragnok the... Fifth?"

"Indeed," Ragnok said with a nod. "You know your goblin history."

"I think my old History of Magic teacher is in love with you goblins," Harry joked with a small smile on his face. "All he ever does is drone on about goblin rebellions."

"You do not find our history interesting?" Ragnok asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

"Keep in mind that I said 'drone,'" Harry said. "I find your history to be very interesting, but when it is told in a monotone voice without pause, it can get boring. Most of your history, I have learned through books."

"Wizard books," Ragnok said, and Harry noticed a hint of disgust in his voice, "written by wizards, for wizards, out of a wizard's point of view. I care not for your history books, Harry Potter."

"I know you don't. But the book on goblins that I have read was written by Elvina the Oracle," Harry said, smiling still. He was pleased to see both of Ragnok's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"And how did you come upon that book, Harry Potter? I was under the impression that the First Prime and all of her belongings has been lost."

"Not lost," Harry said, shaking his head, "merely forgotten."

"In your letter, you claimed to be the Ninth Prime of Merlin," Ragnok said. Apparently, he had decided that the time for small talk was over, and it was time to get down to business. "This statement was enough to earn my interest, but I cannot guarantee that I will agree to whatever it is you wish from me."

"I wouldn't expect you to agree to anything without knowing what it is," Harry said. "What I want is-"

But he was interrupted by Ragnok, whose eyes, like Griphook's, had flashed down to the sword.

"That sword," he said, narrowing his eyes, "that is the sword of Godric Gryffindor, is it not?"

"It is," Harry said with a nod. "Why?"

"Once a goblin-wrought object is imbued with its maker's magic, it is impossible to destroy or reshape," Ragnok said, staring down at the sword. "How could you have done this?"

Harry shrugged. "I just channeled my magic into it and transfigured it."

"That is reassuring," Ragnok said, much to Harry's surprise. "Allow me to explain... There has ever only been one person whose magic has been strong enough to overpower a goblin's magic. Can you guess who that wizard was, Harry Potter?"

"Merlin?" Harry asked, to which Ragnok nodded.

"Indeed. The fact that you have been able to reshape the legendary sword forged by Ragnuk the First himself is proof that you, like the Primes before you, have inherited Merlin's magic. Whatever suspicions I may have had regarding your claim to the position of Ninth are gone."

"Why did you speak of Gryffindor with such venom in your voice?" Harry asked, finding himself straying off subject as he took the sword off his belt and held it up. "He must have been a good friend of the goblins for someone to have made this for him."

"Wizarding arrogance," Ragnok spat. "It is true that Ragnuk the First sold the sword to Godric Gryffindor, but he sold it only to Godric Gryffindor!"

"Pardon?" Harry asked politely, blinking. "What does that mean?"

"The sword should have been given back to the goblins when Gryffindor died. That is the goblin way."

"But why? Gryffindor bought it fair and square," Harry argued. He couldn't believe that what was supposed to be a discussion regarding the cup in Bellatrix's vault had turned into an argument regarding the sword.

"A purchase from a goblin is temporary," Ragnok said. "All objects belong to the creator, not the purchaser. That is why the sword should have been returned to Ragnuk when Gryffindor died."

"But you aren't talking about a purchase," Harry said, scratching his head. "You are talking about renting. A purchase is permanent, an item permanently swapped for money. That is the human way. I am sure there was just a misunderstanding from between different customs."

"Be that as it may, we have requested the sword be returned several times, but it has not."

"_That_, you can chalk up to human arrogance. Most people wouldn't take the time to learn your customs. They have probably just assumed that you were trying to cheat them," Harry agreed. He may have been a human, but that didn't mean that he agreed with humans all the time. "So, shall we talk, then, about how much you want for my purchase of the sword of Gryffindor?"

"What purchase are you talking about?" Ragnok asked, his bushy eyebrow rising again. "A goblin purchase, or a human purchase?"

"Human, of course," Harry said.

"You cannot expect me to simply sell a goblin artifact the human way," Ragnok said, scoffing. "It is unthinkable!"

"There has to be something," Harry said. "What do you want for it?"

"The sword is very old, and changed, probably imbued with Basilisk venom. It's not worth as little as it was then."

"Ah, so you agree that a human purchase is acceptable, and we now just have to haggle over a prize?"

Ragnok made a humming noise as he stared sharply at Harry.

"Indeed, Harry Potter. But I don't think you can afford it."

"You look like a very rich goblin," Harry said, humming, "so you no doubt have enough gold, and I'm not eager to part with the larger part of my gold for a sword. I can, however, offer you favors."

"Favors?"

Harry saw that he had caught Ragnok's interest. Elvina had told him that goblins valued favors. In exchange for a rather large patch of land, the mountain where she had made her hideout, and the secrecy of that hideout from even the goblins, Elvina had offered favors, and those favors had immediately been called in, such as having the goblins recognized by the Ministry as sentient being.

"Favors," Harry nodded, smiling. "I can offer you five big favors, provided that it is within my power to do so, in return for permanent ownership of the sword of Gryffindor. It has great sentimental value to me."

"Will you shake on that?" Ragnok asked, narrowing his eyes. "A person's word is his bond, and if you do not follow through..."

Ragnok didn't need to continue. The threat was obvious, and Harry nodded immediately.

"I have no intention of breaking my word," he said as he held out his hand over the desk. Ragnok studied it for a moment, and then shook it, nodding.

"Then we have a deal, Harry Potter. However, the sword was not what you came here to discuss originally, was it?"

"It was not," Harry said, shaking his head. "See, I am sure you can tell just how much goblins would suffer under Voldemort's rule, can you not?"

Harry noticed that Ragnok didn't flinch when he heard Voldemort's name. He did, however, make a somewhat disgusted face.

"I can," Ragnok said, nodding. "But we are also suffering under the current rule, with wizards thinking themselves better than everyone else..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Harry said, smiling. "I have big plans, and none shall be seen as less than another once all those plans are complete."

"What do you want, Harry Potter?" Ragnok asked.

"Voldemort has stored something in the Lestrange vault," Harry explained cautiously. "I realize that it is a big thing I am requesting here, but that item is crucial in defeating Voldemort once and for all."

"You say defeat..."

"Not kill. I have no intention of killing Voldemort, unless he forces my hand. The Dark Lord Grindelwald was never killed, and he hasn't been a threat since he was defeated."

"And you would like Gringotts to neglect our duties, granting you access to the vault of one of the oldest families there is?" Ragnok guessed, and Harry nodded.

"It is a lot to ask, but it's very important. Believe me when I say that I do not do this for personal gain."

"You are the last wizard, Harry Potter, that I would accuse of seeking things that do not belong to you for personal gain. What, exactly, is it that you want from the Lestrange vault, Harry Potter?"

"I want a cup," Harry said, pressing his fingertips together in front of him, his elbows against the armrests of the chair he was in. "It is the cup of Helga Hufflepuff."

"Another goblin-wrought artifact."

"An artifact I need to damage."

Ragnok's eyes widened considerably at that, and he immediately shook his head.

"Out of the question. I have my pride as a goblin, and even if I would allow you to take an artifact out of that vault, one of the oldest vaults in Gringotts, I would never allow it to be damaged by a wizard, Prime or not!"

"I merely need to scratch it with this," Harry said, patting the sword at his hip. That cup has been defiled by very Dark magic, if not the Darkest. I need to cleanse it, and I could only do so with either Basilisk venom, or Fiendfyre."

Ragnok's eyes narrowed as he gave Harry a sharp look. Harry didn't need Legilimency to know that Ragnok was going through his memory for any spell or curse that could only be undone by Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre. He appeared to have come up with the answer, as his eyes once more widened considerably in shock.

"He couldn't have..."

"If we are thinking about the same thing, then yes, he did," Harry said. "That is why I need that cup. It keeps Voldemort chained to the realm of the living. I am hoping that if it's destroyed, and he is faced with his own mortality, he'll become a bit more open to the concept of surrendering."

"Why do you not want him dead?" Ragnok asked, quite obviously confused. "From what I understand, he has caused you more suffering than anyone else."

"I want him punished for his crimes," Harry said seriously. "Death is too easy for him."

"This is a serious crime for the goblins, Harry Potter," Ragnok said, straightening up. "I will consider this, and I will take it up with the High Council of Goblins. If they deem it to be too great a violation of our laws, then I am afraid that there is nothing I can do to help."

"I am grateful that you would even take the time to consider it," Harry said, bowing his head. "I thought you would throw me out at the slightest hint of my suggestion."

"Although I tend to not listen to fools, I do have a keen nose for profitable business," Ragnok said. "I am not one to pass up on a golden opportunity."

"Are you calling me a fool, King Ragnok?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am calling you an unusual wizard, Harry Potter."

"So, you're calling me a fool?"

"A likeable fool."

Slowly, Harry nodded.

"I can live with that."

–

When Harry returned to Avalon that evening, he let out a sigh of relief as he stepped through the portal, which was located inside the Shrieking Shack. He was surprised, however, to meet Alastor Moody in the portal room, looking grumpy as ever. Moody nodded in greeting, both eyes on Harry.

"Moody?" Harry asked, blinking. "What are you doing here?"

"There's an Order meeting tonight," Moody growled out. "Dumbledore sent me here to wait for you. They're all in the War Room."

Harry nodded and followed Moody out of the portal room, all the way to the War Room, where he found that most of the Order had showed up for the meeting. Dumbledore, sitting in one of the General chairs, which was one of the chairs on either side of Harry's chair, their backrests higher than the rest, but not as high as the backrest of Harry's chair, looked up when Harry and Moody entered the room.

"My word, Harry!" Dumbledore said jovially, smiling brightly. "You look like a wizard!"

Harry raised an eyebrow as he took in Dumbledore's purple robes. Unlike he usually had, there was no pattern on these robes, no stars or moons.

"And you look quite like a dried prune," Harry commented, which elicited gasps at the disrespect from most of the Order, while some chuckled heartily, including Dumbledore.

"Bill and Fleur tell me that you spent quite some time in Ragnok's office," Dumbledore said as Harry sat down in his seat, while Moody took the other General chair. "How did it go?"

"Well, Ragnok has decided to bring the matter up with the High Council," Harry explained. "It would seem that they greatly favor us now, especially since I permanently purchased the sword of Gryffindor from them."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "And what did you pay for it?"

"Favors," Harry replied. "I have also given the promise that I will get the goblins more respected in the wizard world."

"Very good, Harry. Very good," Dumbledore said, nodding in appreciation. He had seemed slightly annoyed (not that you could ever tell with Dumbledore) when he wasn't allowed to sit in the highest chair in Avalon, but he had adjusted to his General chair quite nicely. Despite the fact that Harry sat in the most imposing chair, it didn't stop anyone from giving Dumbledore their full attention.

"Kingsley, I believe you had something to say?" Dumbledore asked, now looking to the bald Auror, who was sitting right across from him, between Sirius and Hestia Jones.

"I believe that Pius Thicknesse has been put under the Imperius Curse as well," Kingsley spoke in his deep voice, which carried across the entire room. Everyone stared at Kingsley in surprise. Apparently, that was a big blow. From what Harry had heard, Pius Thicknesse was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, taking over after the death of Amelia Bones, a great loss.

"That is... unfortunate," Dumbledore spoke gravely. "Pius is, after all, next in line for Minister."

"Do you think that Voldemort will make a move to take over the Ministry?" Harry asked, glancing at Dumbledore, who hummed.

"I do not know," he said as he shook his head. "I suspect that he will. He has, after all, infiltrated most of the Ministry. Have you glimpsed into Voldemort's mind lately?"

"I have," Harry said with a nod. "But it's getting harder. He's using Occlumency against me, getting stronger and stronger every day. Now, I'm limited to deciphering mere emotions. He's been getting more and more pleased as the days go on. That's a bad sign."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Keep an eye on the Minister, Kingsley," he told the Auror, who immediately nodded. "If anything happens, I want you to let me know immediately. Sirius, any news?"

"Death Eaters have started coming back to Britain," Sirius said gravely. "They're increasing in numbers. They seem to have recruited more soldiers while out of the country. I think they're getting ready to focus on the matters here. Voldemort may have abandoned his search for that Oracle in the prophecy."

"What did that mean, anyway?" the very pregnant Tonks asked, sitting next to Lupin, who was next to Sirius. "That whole 'know the Oracle' thing?"

"No idea," Harry said, shaking his head. "I have met the Oracle, and I got to know her, but there are so many ways to interpret that. Voldemort suspects that it's merely to know the history of the Oracle, and that's why he's abandoned the search for her, as he learned about her while he was at Hogwarts. If that's it, then he's already won. Otherwise, I'm the one who's won."

"So, it's a coin toss now?" Sirius asked, to which Harry nodded. Sirius hummed and reached into his pocket, taking out a Galleon. "Heads, and it's Harry's win."

Sirius flipped the coin into the air, and all eyes were on it as it went up, then fell onto the surface of the table. It bounced once, then spun on its side for a few seconds. Everyone stared in anticipation as it slowly stopped spinning...

But it never fell...

Everyone stared in shock as the gold coin, its shape very uneven, stood perfectly on its side.

"Well..." Sirius said, clearing his throat. "Wow..."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. "Well, at least it wasn't tails..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat rather loudly to draw everyone's attention away from the gold coin. "Severus, what do you have for us?"

The greasy-haired Potions professor, who Harry hadn't even noticed yet, sitting closest to Moody, glanced at Harry, then looked at Dumbledore.

"Everyone speaks the truth. The Dark Lord has been very pleased with the recent developments. He believes himself to be ready to take the Ministry within the week. I have, however, planted some traps which will postpone his plans for at least fourteen days."

"Very good, Severus, thank you," Dumbledore said with a bright smile. "And about the prophecy?"

"The Dark Lord believes himself to have figured it out, and believes that he will emerge victorious the next time he and Potter duels. Although he has expressed concerns to me. After Lucius' failure in the Ministry, it appears that I have become his most trusted, not that he truly trusts anyone..."

"And what are the concerns, Severus."

"He feels weakened," Snape said quietly. "It's not much, but basically, it feels like a single drop has been taken from his vast well of magic."

At those words, Harry felt his ring vibrate slightly, but other than his fingers twitching ever so slightly in surprise, he showed no signs of having felt it.

"He believes that Potter did something to him, and has ordered me to find out what it was."

"I invented a spell," Harry said, smirking. "You can tell him that. You could tell him that I have invented a spell that drains the victim of their magic permanently. That should make him sweat a little."

"It's not nice to lie, Harry," Sirius chided jokingly, while some chuckled.

"That lie may work," Snape said seriously. He hadn't looked at Harry, nor Sirius, when they spoke, instead staring down at the table, appearing deep in thought. "Given the Dark Lord's recent paranoia regarding Potter's new-found powers..."

It looked like it physically pained Snape to admit that Harry was powerful, and Harry felt very pleased to know that he had become so powerful that not even Snape could pass it off as luck.

"And the preparations...?" Dumbledore trailed off, glancing at Harry, who nodded.

"They are done. Everything is ready."

"Good, good..."

Dumbledore sat there and stroked his beard. Harry noticed that the Order members were looking at Harry and Dumbledore strangely. They had no idea... No idea what the two of them had planned. Harry himself could hardly even believe what they had planned, so he doubted that any of them could guess...

The meeting slowly started becoming unintelligible as everyone started talking to everyone, muttering loud enough for buzzing to be heard, but not loud enough to be overheard by anyone.

"Albus," Harry said, leaning in toward Dumbledore, who raised an eyebrow. "You know, I've been thinking about the final Horcrux."

"I have been expecting you to have second thoughts, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "It is only natural, but I am afraid that I see no other way to-"

"But I do," Harry whispered. "Listen, Basilisk venom can destroy a Horcrux, right?"

"Yes."

"And injecting me with Basilisk venom would destroy the Horcrux, yes?"

"I am afraid not," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "After all, Harry, you have been poisoned before."

"Yeah, but that was my arm," Harry said, then gestured for his scar. "The Horcrux is here. It's worth a try, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is worth a try, but there is not guarantee that Fawkes will give you his tears, although I suspect that he would do so quite willingly."

"He already has," Harry said. He reached into his pocket and took out a phial. It was filled to the cork with a clear liquid, which made Dumbledore's eyes widen. "Fawkes seemed to believe that I might get recklessly hurt during my travels, so on the first day, he filled this with his tears for me."

"If you believed this theory to work, then why have you not done it yet?" Dumbledore asked quietly. He looked quite relieved at the possibility of another solution regarding the Horcrux in Harry's head.

"Two heads are better than one," Harry said, shrugging. "I wanted your opinion first. And I need someone to cut me. Will you help me, Albus?"

Dumbledore's beard twitched with mirth.

"You know, Harry, it is very refreshing to hear one as young as you calling me by my name."

–

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked cautiously as they stood in Dumbledore's office that evening. Dumbledore was holding the sword of Gryffindor in his hand and the phial of Phoenix tears in his other, and Harry was sitting in the center of the office.

"I'm sure," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "Now, make sure to run the entire length of the scar. We don't want to take any chances."

"Do you wish for me to do it quickly and recklessly, or slowly and painfully?"

Harry gave Dumbledore a glare for giving him such horrible choices, and Dumbledore seemed like he couldn't stop smiling. He must have had great faith in Harry's theory, or he never would have been so jovial at such a crucial time.

"If you're a good fencer, do it quickly. I-"

A flash of silver, and a burning pain in Harry's forehead interrupted him as he saw Dumbledore lowering the sword. Apparently, Dumbledore had come up with the same idea in his youth as Harry, that fencing would greatly improve one's wrist movements, perfect for spell-casting.

"How long?" Dumbledore asked as Harry immediately felt the venom work in his body.

"The last... second..."

That familiar white-hot pain was spreading from his head throughout his body as his vision started to blur. He had to admit that the weightlessness he was feeling was very calming. If it wasn't for the pain, he would be quite enjoying the feeling of Death wrapping its arms around him.

Then, it happened...

Pain, even more intense than that of the Basilisk venom, erupted from his scar. A terrifying scream echoed in his head. Harry lurched forward, clutching his scar, and couldn't hold in his own scream of pain. He felt something, something thicker than blood, pouring into his hands from the wound. It was hot, so hot that it felt like it was burning him, yet at the same time he felt no pain from the substance itself.

Then, the pain subsided, and Harry felt the drowsiness take over him. And then, everything went black...

After what felt like a second, Harry snapped his eyes open, and found himself lying on his back, staring up at a clear-blue sky. He didn't remember passing out in the grass. Hadn't he been in Dumbledore's office just now? Groaning, he sat up and looked around. He was on a grassy cliff, overlooking a vast ocean. Behind him, he could only found grassy fields, stretching out as far as he could see.

With a start, he discovered that he was, to his embarrassment, naked. This was, by far, every man's worst nightmare. To wake up somewhere you don't recognize, starkers... At least he wasn't cold, as the sun high in the sky was warming him up quite nicely. It still would have been nice to have some clothes, though.

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were, he noticed, dress robes, very nice ones, too. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was remarkable how they had simply appeared like that...

A noise reached him through the silence, small soft thumpings of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on... Harry cleared his throat. This noise was not to be associated with something as pleasurable as sex.

Turning slowly to his left, he saw, in the grass, the thing that had been making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering in the sun.

Making a disgusted face, Harry slowly reached out with his foot and poked the thing. It gave off a pained whine, and Harry immediately pulled his foot back.

"Quite pitiful, isn't he?"

Harry spun around, and saw someone he least expected to see. Elvina stood there, dressed quite differently than she had the last time he saw her. She was now wearing a very cute, white sundress with a rose pattern going up one side of it. She was smiling at Harry, who saw that her gray eyes, unlike the last time he'd seen her, weren't cobwebbed.

"Nice to _see_ you, Harry," she said, sounding very pleased.

"Elvina..." Harry said, gaping at the woman. "You... How...?" Then, his mind came to a realization, and he slowly nodded. "So, I'm dead, then?"

"Are you?" Elvina asked, her tone changing to one of amusement as she walked up to Harry kissing him softly on the lips. She gave him a smile, and then walked over to the baby-like thing in the grass, kneeling and picking it up, cradling it as she would a newborn child.

"Well, you're here," Harry said, rightly feeling that that fact alone solidified the conclusion that he was dead.

"Yes?" Elvina asked, still sounding amused.

"Is this a dream, then?"

"Of course it isn't," Elvina said, laughing softly, a sound that made the thing in her arms whine again. "You know as well as anyone that dreams are much more... confusing... than this. If this was a dream, I have little doubt that your Potions teacher would appear, wearing a cape and a top hat, scolding you for slacking off."

Harry couldn't help it. Even with his surprise and shock, he still managed to laugh at the mental image, and Elvina laughed as well.

The creature whined again, and Elvina hushed it softly.

"But if I'm not dead, and you _are_ dead, and this isn't a dream... what is it?"

Elvina hummed as she looked around. "That is the question, isn't it? What is it? That, I'm afraid, is all up to you. Do you want this to be some form of afterlife, rendering you unable to return to the world of the living?"

"Do I have to answer that?" Harry asked, blinking. Elvina chuckled and shook her head.

"Not really. We both know the answer, so there is no need to be saying it."

Harry nodded slowly as he watched Elvina rocking that hideous creature, humming a tune to herself.

"You left."

Elvina paused for a second, and then resumed her rocking, nodding.

"We both know the answer as to why I didn't say good-bye, so there is no need to be saying that either."

Harry nodded again, keeping his eyes on the creature in Elvina's arms. He walked closer to her. "Elvina," he said. "What is that thing?"

"This?" Elvina said, nodding down toward the creature, who gave off a whine. With a nonchalant shrug, Elvina rocked the creature back further than before, and calmly chucked it over the cliff. Harry's eyes widened as he ran to the edge of the cliff. How high was it, anyway? He saw nothing falling. The creature was gone. There was no splash, no nothing. He looked back to Elvina, who shrugged and said, "It's nothing. Not anymore, anyway."

"That..." Harry pointed down the edge of the cliff. "Was that...?"

"Yes, it was the piece of Voldemort's soul that had attached itself to you."

Humming that very same tune again, she turned her back to Harry and walked off. Harry, thinking of nothing better to do, followed her.

"You were right, you know," Elvina said with a smile as she looked back at Harry. "The sun truly is very beautiful."

"Just like you," Harry said, nodding. Elvina laughed softly and suddenly stopped. She turned toward Harry, who stopped as well, and took his hands in hers. Her expression, Harry noticed, had turned solemn.

"Harry," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"For the potion?" Harry asked, knowing what she was thinking about. She nodded. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I don't blame you for doing what you did. I'm not saying it was the right thing to do, but I don't blame you for it."

Elvina looked honestly relieved to hear that, and she immediately hugged him. Harry, without hesitating, hugged her back. She hummed in a pleased manner.

"I missed this," she said, closing her eyes. "Hearing your heartbeat, I mean. Too bad this won't last."

"I agree. But, you know, there are things I have to do," Harry said with a nod.

"Yes, you still have to take care of Voldemort, and revolutionize the Wizarding world."

"Well, I don't know about revolutionizing anything," Harry said. "But taking care of Voldemort is something I _have_ to do."

Elvina nodded and broke the hug, looking up at Harry and smiling warmly at him.

"Well, you better hop to it, then."

With that said, Elvina kissed him softly, and gave his chest a hard push. Harry tripped and fell back, but as soon as he hit the ground, he blinked, only to find himself in a bed in the hospital wing, his usual one. The last time he was there, he had magically carved his name into the headboard, and since the name was there, he knew it was his bed.

"Basilisk venom!" he heard a sharp voice cry. Madame Pomfrey... "What on earth were you thinking?"

"In my defense, it was all Harry's idea, Poppy," Dumbledore's voice defended. Harry turned his head to see the two of them standing not too far from his bed. Their blurred forms told Harry that his glasses were off. He reached toward the bedside table and found his glasses, in their usual spot, putting them on quickly.

Madame Pomfrey was glaring daggers at Dumbledore, who looked quite calm, though Harry could see that he looked a bit shaken as well. It was probably because Harry lost consciousness, not because of Madame Pomfrey's glare.

"And you usually help suicidal students, do you?" Madame Pomfrey demanded.

"Well, if the price is right..."

"This isn't a joke, headmaster!"

Dumbledore chuckled at the ferocity in Madame Pomfrey's words.

"Nevertheless, I am certain that Harry will treat it as such, and it was much better than the alternative."

"Two much," Harry croaked, feeling that his throat was rather dry as he got the attention of the two.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked politely, his eyes twinkling as he looked at Harry, who took the glass of water by the bed and drank it all down.

"A single 'much' isn't enough, Albus," Harry said as he set down the empty glass. "It was much, _much_ better than the alternative. See, there needs to be great emphasis on that second 'much.'"

Madame Pomfrey was visibly twitching now, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"And the link?"

"I can't feel him anymore," Harry said as he rubbed his scar. Madame Pomfrey, who had always appeared to know more than she let on, went wide-eyed at that, and most of her anger seemed to fade away. How much did she know about the link, Harry wondered as he watched the nurse turn and walk away. "That black stuff came out, just like the diadem and Nagini."

"The same thing happened with the ring and the locket," Dumbledore said with a nod. "I believe that we have managed to destroy the Horcrux in your scar, Harry."

"Me too," Harry said as he leaned back. "Did you panic?"

Dumbledore blinked.

"What?"

"When I lost consciousness," Harry elaborated. "You seemed pretty nervous when we started, so when I lost consciousness... did you panic?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "I admit, there was a moment where I believed that I was too late in administering the Phoenix tears."

"Bet you even cried a bit, too," Harry mused, to which Dumbledore chuckled.

"That is for me to know, and you to wonder about, my boy," the headmaster said, patting Harry's leg before walking off, looking full of mirth. "Feel better, Harry."

"Will do."

"Ah, by the way," Dumbledore said as he stopped and looked back at Harry. "I heard from Bill that it has been said that you speak Gobbledegook. Where did you learn that?"

"No idea," Harry said, shrugging. "Good night, Albus."

Dumbledore gave a quick chuckle. He was probably accustomed to the unusual things that happened around Harry by now.

"Good night, Harry."

–

When Harry Potter the next day stepped into Dumbledore's office, he was faced with an interesting sight. Fawkes was standing on the surface of the desk in the empty office, holding a letter in his beak. Now that, in itself, wasn't too interesting. What was interesting was that Fawkes seemed to be glaring at him, as if accusing him for being late, even though he didn't even have an appointment.

"That for me, Fawkes?" Harry asked.

Fawkes didn't answer. Instead, he simply dropped the letter onto the desk and flew off to sit on his perch. Curiously, Harry walked over to the desk and picked up the envelope, which had his name written on it in Dumbledore's familiar hand writing.

_Dear Harry,_

_Urgent news have reached me, and I have been forced to leave the country for some time. It would seem that Gellert has something to say to me, and it apparently could not wait. Although Minerva is an excellent Headmistress, I do not believe that she has the power necessary to maintain the wards in case Voldemort chooses now to attack Hogwarts._

_Please, is it too much to ask that you step in as Headmaster of Hogwarts while I am gone? I assure you, I will not take long, one week, at most. It would mean a great deal to me if you would agree to this, Harry._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus_

Harry blinked as he looked over to Fawkes.

"Is he serious, Fawkes?"

Fawkes just gave a thrill that, despite having spent a long time with the Phoenix, Harry couldn't tell if it was an affirmative or negative...

Just then, the door to the office opened, and Harry was surprised to see Professor McGonagall enter. When she noticed Harry, a sort-of smile appeared on her face.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, you're here. I take it you read Dumbledore's letter?"

Harry nodded.

"Is it for real?"

"It is," Professor McGonagall said, nodding. "I was sent here to see if you would accept or not."

"I have nothing better to do," Harry said with a shrug. "I suppose I can fill in for Dumbledore for a week."

"Very good," Professor McGonagall said as she nodded stiffly. She looked (despite hardly even changing her facial expression) very pleased to hear that Harry had accepted. "I shall inform the faculty of this."

"I wonder how Snape will take the news," Harry mused, and smiled upon seeing the corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth twitch in amusement. "Have a good day, Professor."

"Please, Mr. Potter, you are no longer a student, and are now interim headmaster, call me Minerva," Professor McGonagall said as she strode out of the office, leaving a shocked Harry. He never thought he'd live to see the day where Professor McGonagall asked him to call her Minerva...

–

Harry looked around at the occupants of the table, smiling brightly. His Dragon Order was gathered, even the graduates had showed up at Hogwarts. They were all in their designated chairs, giving Harry their full attention. Now Harry knew how Dumbledore felt when addressing the Order of the Phoenix. He stood up, and the chatter died away immediately.

"I'm so pleased to see you all," he said happily. "It's been near eight months since I last held a meeting, and you all answer my call as though it was yesterday."

That part, he'd taken from Voldemort's resurrection. Say what you will about Voldemort's personality and cruelty, he had a way with words.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to have you all gathered here," Harry continued as he took a deep breath, unable to get rid of the smile on his face. "We are all still united under the banner of the Dragon Order, are we not?"

As one, every member of the Dragon Order pounded a fist against the table, and Harry was happy to see most of the members smiling or grinning up at him.

"Do we have news from our graduates?"

"I have some news," Angelina Johnson said near the other end of the table. Harry gestured for her to continue. "My father works at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He says that the Head of the Auror Office, Robards, has started acting strangely. He thinks that he's been put under the Imperius Curse."

"That isn't implausible," Harry mused as he sat down again. "Apparently, Pius Thicknesse, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement has also been put under the Imperius."

"That's bad, isn't it?" Michael Corner asked. "I mean, if You-Know-Who has people in the Ministry..."

"Voldemort has had people in the Ministry for a while now, both Death Eaters and Imperius victims," Harry said. "As long as the Minister isn't replaced, there is no need to worry about anything other than slight law changes, not that that is a good thing."

"Just the lesser of two evils," Hermione agreed.

"Neville," Harry said, looking to Neville, who was sitting near the middle. "Your gran is in the Wizengamot, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Has she said anything?"

"She believes that several of the Wizengamot members have been Imperiused," Neville said with a nod. "This is getting bad, Harry... Really bad..."

"But as long as we have you and Dumbledore, we should be okay, right?" Colin Creevey asked nervously. Harry sighed.

"Although Voldemort would be incredibly foolish to attempt an attack of Hogwarts, the same cannot be said for the Ministry," he said sadly. "It's quite plausible for him to take over the Ministry, and if he does, he may be able to force us into hiding. After all, we are only two men, and we don't want to attack innocent people who are just following orders."

"What can we do, then?" Neville asked, sounding as nervous as Colin. "I mean... we haven't got any say in the Ministry, have we?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"No, we don't... There's nothing we can do, except wait... and hope. Our main focus will be Hogwarts. So long as we're here, we won't allow anyone with malicious intent to enter this castle. Am I right?"

Everyone pounded the table again, harder than before, showing their resolve.

"Very good," Harry said, nodding. "To our graduates, I want you to keep your rings on at all times. In case of an emergency, you will Apparate to Hogsmeade, and take the hidden entrance to Hogwarts through the Shrieking Shack."

–

A week later, Harry could be found sitting behind Dumbledore's desk, reading a small, pocket-sized book, the leather binding of which was old and worn. The cover had no writing or anything on it, but from reading it, Harry had found that it was one of Merlin's notebooks, in which he had written ideas for spells that he never got to finish.

On the desk stood a golden cup, next to a piece of parchment. The message on the parchment was short and to the point.

Harry Potter,

The High Council has agreed. The cup has been taken from the Lestrange vault. Will be expecting great favors.

Ragnok

Harry's focus, however, wasn't on the cup, which he had already scratched at the base with his sword, but instead on one unfinished spell in particular.

Iudicium Pristis. Judgment of the Dragon, a spell that seemed right up Harry's alley. The theory on the spell was perfect. If done as the book described, it should've worked, but somehow, Merlin could never manage it. There was something he must have overlooked, some sort of contradiction, or lack of power, anything...

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Harry barely even noticed the door opening, and didn't look up from the notebook until he heard a very amused voice.

"You look right at home in my chair, my boy."

Harry looked up, a smile appearing on his face when he saw the very happy Dumbledore.

"Albus," he said, standing up and shaking Dumbledore's hand. "I take it your trip was enjoyable?"

"It was, as was the time I spent at my destination," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

"So, did you enjoy talking to Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It was... It is hard to explain, but I feel much, much lighter now, thank you."

Harry moved around the desk, and Dumbledore did the same. Dumbledore sat down in his chair, while Harry say down in his usual chair, pocketing the notebook.

"He was very interested in you, Harry," Dumbledore said, observing Harry over the rim of his glasses. "From what I gathered, you made quite an impression on him."

Harry bowed his head, smiling. "I try my best," he said, then gestured for the cup on Dumbledore's desk. "As you can see, the goblins came through. The Horcrux has been destroyed."

"Then it is done," Dumbledore said as he leaned back in his chair. "All the Horcruxes have been destroyed. Now all that is left is Voldemort himself." Dumbledore looked at Harry, who had averted his eyes. "You still do not know if you are capable of killing him?"

"I am going to give him one last chance the next time we meet," Harry said. "If I can't save Tom Riddle then... well, I guess I will have no choice..."

"You are an admirable man, Harry, let no one tell you otherwise," Dumbledore said, smiling at him. "What you have, the ability to see good in even a man like Lord Voldemort, is a great power, not a weakness. It is a power that not many others have."

"Except for you," Harry said. "After all, you trust Snape."

"Indeed I do," Dumbledore said with a nod. "If I was incapable of seeing the remorse in Severus, then he would be in Azkaban by now, and he would not have been able to become as valuable a spy as he is today."

Silence fell, and the two just sat there, both of them staring at the cup.

"Does it get easier?" Harry asked after a minute or two.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked politely, raising his eyebrows.

"The burden of all these responsibilities," Harry clarified. "Does it get easier?"

"I am afraid not," Dumbledore said and shook his head. "No, but you get used to it, after a while."

"That's better than nothing, I guess," Harry muttered, sighing.

"I find it easier to deal with when I think of it like this: I take on all those burdens, so that no one else will have to do it themselves," Dumbledore said, making Harry hum.

"The big brother to all of Britain, eh?" he asked with a smirk, to which Dumbledore chuckled.

"Something like that, yes. Now, what was that book you were reading when I came in? You seemed very interested in it."

"Kama Sutra," Harry said immediately, seeing Dumbledore's eyes widen in shock. He couldn't hold it in, however, and burst out laughing. "No, I'm just kidding," he said after calming down. "It's actually one of Merlin's notebooks. It's one of the five books containing the spells he was never able to finish."

"Oho, indeed?" Dumbledore asked, sounding very interested. "So you have taken it upon yourself to finish them?"

"I will try, but I can't guarantee anything," Harry said, shrugging.

Dumbledore nodded slowly, and silence fell upon them once more. Harry say, watching Dumbledore, who was staring at the cup, appearing deep in thought.

"Will you go to the wedding, then?"

Harry blinked at the sudden question.

"What?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding," Dumbledore clarified.

"But, er, I thought they got married this summer."

"Well, I informed them that the odds were good that you would be coming back this winter, so Fleur felt that, perhaps, a winter wedding was better, and Bill was quick to agree."

"They postponed the wedding just for me?" Harry asked, feeling his eyebrows rising in surprise. "I... Well, I'm honored."

"Then I take it that you will go?"

"I will."

–

Three days after the conversation in Dumbledore's office, Harry Apparated into view just outside the wards surrounding the Burrow, where he met with Lupin and Tonks, who were heading up to attend the wedding between Bill and Fleur.

"Harry," Lupin said with a smile as they three headed up to the huge, white marquee that had been set up in the orchard outside the Burrow. "I didn't think you would show up."

"I wouldn't miss this, not after they postponed it just for me," Harry said with a smile. He was once more dressed in black robes with gold trimmings, as that color seemed to have been the only color Merlin preferred. He also had some blue robes, but that color didn't fit Harry, in his opinion. He looked at Tonks. "You look pretty far along, Tonks."

Tonks nodded, smiling as she patted her rather large stomach. "It won't be long now."

"You'll be godfather, right?" Lupin asked, patting Harry on the shoulder.

Harry blinked in shock at that, looking from Tonks to Lupin, then back to Tonks, and once more to Lupin. They were both smiling happily at him.

"Me? I, er... blimey, yeah, of course! I'd be honored!"

"Excellent," Lupin said happily as the reached the marquee, taking their place in the long queue of guests who were waiting to be seated. At the front, Harry spied Ron, Fred and George, directing the guests to their designated seats. Lupin glanced at Harry. "So, how's your knee?"

"Very well, thank you," Harry said, shrugging. "Hurts sometimes, sometimes it doesn't."

"Vague, but oddly satisfying description," Tonks said in amusement.

"That's the way Harry has always been," Lupin said, smiling. "I taught him in his third year, remember?"

"And we've never had a better Defense teacher since."

Lupin seemed to blush slightly at the praise. Harry knew that Lupin's greatest wish had always been to teach.

"I'm starting to regret waiting in line with you," Tonks whispered, looking a bit crossed. "That constant giggling is beginning to annoy me..."

As Tonks said, giggles were heard every few seconds from behind him, but Harry couldn't fathom why he was at fault for it. Confused, he looked back and saw a pair of French blond girls, probably in their twenties, stealing glances at him and giggling. Veela, judging by their aura.

"Bonjour," Harry said, nodding to the girls, who fell into another giggle fit. Harry looked at Tonks and shrugged. "Can't be helped, can it?"

"Hey, English," a voice from behind Harry whispered in his ear in French, sounding so close that he felt a shiver go down his spine. He looked back, to see one of the two girls standing dangerously close to him. He felt her arm wrap around his own, and without warning, the other girl did the same to his other arm, pulling him back toward them, away from Lupin and Tonks.

"It's awfully cold, isn't it?" the other girl asked in a very low voice, which sounded very seductive to Harry, also in French. "English winter, I mean... Is it too much to ask... that you come warm us up a bit?"

"I..." Harry swallowed. His French seemed to have run away at the moment. "Er... I, uh... I..."

"You are a very powerful wizard, aren't you?" the first girl whispered in his ear, and though he couldn't see her, he could feel her smirking. "I like that, you know. Call me shallow, but I do."

"I..."

Luckily, Lupin came to his rescue, reaching back and seizing Harry's collar, before pulling him toward him as they walked.

"The line is moving, Harry," he said kindly, smirking at Harry, who glanced back at the veela, gulping.

"Er... maybe later?" he suggested in French, which caused the two veela to giggle again.

"Oh, there you are!"

Fred's excited exclamation tore Harry's attention away from the veela, and he looked to see that they had reached the entrance to the tent.

"Remus and Tonks," George said, looking down at the seating plans in his hands. "You're seated on the fifth row on your right, furthest in."

"Thanks," Lupin said with a nod as the couple entered the marquee. Harry looked into the marquee and saw rows and rows of fragile golden chairs set on either side of a long purple carpet. The supporting poles were entwined with white and gold flowers, and someone had fastened an enormous bunch of golden balloons over the exact point where Bill and Fleur would shortly become husband and wife.

"And Harry, old chum," Fred said, having consulted his own seating plans, "you're to be seated in the front row, closest to the aisle."

"Thanks, Fred," Harry said with a nod, before entering the marquee. Despite being mid-winter, the tent was very warm, no doubt thanks to several warming charms. Harry smiled, unable to help himself, as he walked down the aisle, looking over the other guests. Hagrid, who was seated in the back, on a reinforced chair, waved happily when he spotted Harry, who waved back.

"Harry."

Harry jumped and looked to the left side of the tent, finding himself standing face to face with none other than Viktor Krum, who, like Harry, had decided to grow a bit of facial hair, only he had gone for a goatee.

"Viktor!" Harry said pleasantly, shaking the Quidditch star's hand. "How are you?"

"Good, good," Krum said, nodding as he looked Harry over. "You look vell."

"Never felt better," Harry said with a chuckle. "Fleur invited you?"

"Yes. She vas very kind to do so."

"We're all friends, aren't we?"

"Ve are, thank you." Krum nodded slowly. "Have you seen Her-mai-ownee?"

Harry smiled. At least he was trying to get her name right. It was better than during the Triwizard Tournament, when he only managed to call her Her-mo-ninny.

"Not yet. I only just arrived, but I think she's probably in the house, getting ready."

Krum nodded again. Then, he spotted a man who had just entered the tent. Harry, curious, looked as well. Slightly cross-eyes, with shoulder-length white hair the texture of candyfloss, he wore a cap whose tassel dangled in front of his nose and robes of an eye-watering shade of egg-yolk yellow. A very familiar symbol, looking like a triangular eye, glistened from a golden chain around his neck. Next to him, wearing a long dress of the same color yellow, was none other than Luna Lovegood.

"Who is that man in yellow?"

"Probably Luna's father," Harry said with a shrug. "A Lovegood. Why?"

"Because," Krum said, "if he vos not a guest of Fleur's, I vould duel him, here and now, for wearing that filthy sign upon his chest?"

"Sign?" Harry asked, glancing at the symbol for the Deathly Hallows. "What about it?"

"Grindelvald... That is Grindelvald's sign."

Harry choked on his own saliva at that. Krum seemed to think that it was just from shock, and continued.

"Grindelvald killed many people, my grandfather, for instance. Of course, he vos never poverful in this country, they said he feared Dumbledore, and rightly, seeing how he vos finished. But this," he pointed a finger at Luna's father, "this is his symbol, I recognized it at vunce: Grindelvald carved it into a vall at Durmstrang ven he vos a pupil there. Some idiots copied it onto their books and clothes, thinking to shock, make themselves impressive, until those of us who had lost family members to Grindelvald taught them better."

"I'm going to have to stop you there, Viktor," Harry said when he saw Krum cracking his knuckles menacingly. "True, Grindelwald used that symbol as his own, but I highly doubt that Grindelwald is the reason why Luna's father is wearing it. After all, Grindelwald adopted the symbol from somewhere else."

"Else?" Krum asked, looking at Harry strangely.

"The Deathly Hallows, a silly tale of three items of great power, bestowed upon three wizards by Death himself. Grindelwald loved that story. Look."

Harry held up his hand, showing off the Gaunt ring, and he saw Krum's eyes widen when he noticed the symbol on the black stone. Harry ignored him and pointed at the symbol instead.

"Look, the line is the so-called most powerful wand in the world, the circle is the Resurrection Stone, a stone that is said to bring people back from the dead, although that has been proven to be impossible, and the invisibility cloak, said to never lose its power, a cloak that cannot be summoned from the wearer and so on. I think that is the reason why Mr. Lovegood wears the symbol."

"And you believe in these Hallows?" Krum asked, watching the ring as Harry lowered his hand.

"I think that there are powerful items in this world, created by powerful wizard, but gifts from Death himself? No."

"Then vhy vear that ring?"

"Oh, this?" Harry said, showing off the ring again. Then, he shrugged. "I don't know... I guess you could call it spoils of war, and leave it at that."

Krum nodded. The two shook hands again, then moved to their designated seats.

When Harry sat down, he felt a pat on his shoulder, and looked to the side to see Sirius sitting there, smiling at him.

"Well, I'll be..." Harry said, blinking as he feigned surprise. "I didn't know dogs were allowed in here."

Sirius scoffed, crossing his arms.

"And a bloody shame that is. Merlin knows that a couple of mutts going crazy in here would truly liven this place up."

Harry laughed at that and said, "So, how are you doing, Sirius?"

"I'm great," Sirius said happily. "Bucky has had eight kids now, and they're all growing up so fast!"

"Hey, I've been thinking about that..." Harry said, humming.

"Yes?"

"Well, a hippogriff is part bird, part horse, right?" Harry asked, to which Sirius nodded. "Well, do they lay eggs?"

Sirius laughed. "Oh, you don't know how many times I have been asked that question. Yes, they lay eggs, but only one at a time."

"The eternal Hogwarts question has finally been answered," Harry said, nodding to himself. Sirius nodded as well.

"Yeah, I remember how your dad used to stalk the hippogriffs in the Forbidden Forest in his stag form, trying to see if they gave birth or laid eggs."

Harry laughed, and the two lapsed into silence as a sense of jittery anticipation had filled the warm tent, the general murmuring broken by occasional spurts of excited laughter and giggling. Harry spotted the two veela girls on the left side of the tent, waving at him. Smiling, he waved back.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley strolled up the aisle, smiling and waving at relatives. Mrs. Weasley was wearing a brand-new set of amethyst-colored robes with a matching hat.

A moment later, Bill and Charlie stood up at the front of the marquee, both wearing dress robes, with large white roses in their buttonholes. Harry could hear a wolf-whistle, followed by an outbreak of giggling. Then, the crowd fell silent as music swelled from what seemed to be the golden balloons.

Harry heard many "Ooh's" and "Aah's", and swiveled around in his seat to look at the entrance.

A great collective sigh issued from the assembled witches and wizards as Monsieur Delacour, a shorter, plump man, with a little, pointed black beard, and Fleur came walking up the aisle, Fleur gliding, Monsieur Delacour bouncing and beaming. Fleur was wearing a very simple white dress and seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow. While her radiance usually dimmed everyone else by comparison, today it beautified everybody it fell upon. Ginny and Gabrielle, both wearing golden dresses, looked even prettier than usual, and once Fleur had reached him, Bill didn't look as though he had ever met Fenrir Greyback.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a slightly singsong voice said as a small, tufty-haired wizard took his place in front of Bill and Fleur. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls..."

"What are you doing?" Sirius whispered to Harry who held what looked like glowing golden sand in his hand, pouring it into his other hand and repeating the process.

"Playing," Harry said. In reality he was molding magic. The sand was pure magic in its rawest form, a skill that Harry had picked up... Well, he didn't really remember where he had learned this magic, actually. He had, however, found that he was very good at molding raw magic.

"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle...?"

"Playing with what?" Sirius asked, seeming unable to take his eyes off the magic in Harry's hand.

"You'll see," Harry said quietly as he started kneading the magic in his hand. Slowly, it started taking shape, that of a Eauropean swallow. Sirius stared as Harry held it in his hand, turning his attention back to the tufty-haired wizard.

"...then I declare you bonded for life."

The tufty-haired wizard waved his wand high over the heads of Bill and Fleur, and a shower of silver stars fell upon them, spiraling around their now entwined figures. As the applauds started sounding, and the balloons burst, showering them in confetti, Harry threw the bird into the air. The bird exploded into a shower of sparks, which caused everyone to jump in shock. Then, each spark formed into a golden swallow, so that a flock of them flew around the tent. The swallows circled Bill and Fleur three times, and then flew straight out of the entrance to the tent, chirping happily.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the tufty-haired wizard called. "If you would please stand up!"

They all did so, and he waved his wand again. The seats on which they had been sitting rose gracefully into the air as the canvas walls of the marquee vanished, so that they stood beneath a canopy supported by golden poles, with a glorious view of the sunlit, snowy orchard and surrounding countryside.

Next, a pool of molten gold spread from the center of the tent to form a gleaming dance floor. The hovering chairs grouped themselves around small, white-clothed tables, which all floated gracefully back to earth around it, and the golden-jacketed band trooped toward a podium.

"Impressive," Sirius said, looking around as the waiters popped up on all sides, some bearing silver trays of pumpkin juice, butterbeer, and firewhisky, others tottering piles of tarts and sandwiches.

"Eh, I could have done it faster," Harry commented, clicking his tongue, to which Sirius chuckled. "I'd rather congratulate the happy couple, but... well, see for yourself."

He nodded toward Bill and Fleur, just in time to see them vanish amid a crowd of well-wishers.

"So, I noticed that you were undressing a couple of veela cousins with your eyes," Sirius spoke in amusement as he snatched two glasses of firewhisky from a passing tray and handed one to Harry. "Shame, shame, Harry, you don't even know their names."

"I can't help the impulses of my brain. They've got a will of their own," Harry said, scoffing as he sipped the firewhisky, which left a burning sensation in his throat as he swallowed it.

"You know, your father was more into redheads," Sirius said as he looked around. "I never would have thought you'd prefer blonds. And..." Sirius trailed off, his eyes landing on a strange sight, obviously. "Er... what is she doing?"

He was pointing at Luna, who was dancing alone, waving her arms around her head like someone attempting to beat off midges.

"Getting rid of Wrackspurts," Harry answered calmly, recognizing the symptoms. Luna had done that pretty much every meeting with the Dragon Order.

"Wrackspurts?" Sirius asked, blinking, and Harry nodded.

"Wrackspurts."

The two looked at Luna for a moment. Then, they both shrugged, and said at the same time, "Wrackspurts."

"Excusez-moi?"

Harry and Sirius both looked back, and Harry saw one of the veela girls from earlier, who, just like Fleur and Madame Delacour could only be described as stunning. Tall, slender, and with long, silvery hair. She was smiling brightly at Sirius, looping an arm around Harry's

"You do not mind if I borrow 'Arry for un moment, vous faire?" she asked Sirius in heavily accented English.

"Not at all!" Sirius said jovially. "My godson needs to learn to spend time with people closer to people his own age. This old dog will just be sitting on the sidelines," he said, snatching Harry's walking stick out of his hand.

"Bon," the veela said, pulling the stunned Harry to the dance floor. "Dance wiz me, oui?"

"Uh..." Harry was speechless for a few moments, then snapped himself out of it. "You don't have to speak English, you know," he said, switching to French.

"Oh, good," the girl said. "So, will you dance?"

"Er, sure," Harry said, nodding slowly.

Smirking as they reached the dance floor, the girl took Harry's hand in her own, then guided his other hand to her hip, much lower than was necessary, he noticed, before placing her free hand on his shoulder.

"My name is Giselle," she said as they slowly started moving to the music. "Giselle Chevalier."

"Harry Potter."

"Yes, I know, Fleur told me," Giselle said with a musical laugh, which turned the heads of many dancers around them. "Fleur has told us a lot about you, you know. She speaks so highly of you that I thought for a moment that you were the one she was going to marry, instead of that Bill person."

"Just how are you related to Fleur?" Harry asked, blinking. Seeing as Fleur was a quarter-veela, and this girl was a full veela, the relation had to be distant.

"Her grandmother and mine are sisters," Giselle told him, smiling brightly.

"Just how old are you?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, I know it's rude to ask, but from looking at Fleur's mother, I can see that you all age very gracefully."

Giselle laughed again. "Oh, do not worry, Harry, I am only twenty-three years old." She gave him a shrewd look. "I take it, from that question, that you are interested?"

"Who wouldn't be interested in a beautiful woman?" Harry asked. He was getting used to this. The shock of dancing with a stunning beauty was slowly wearing off, and he could be himself again.

"I didn't lie, you know," Giselle said as she leaned closer, and Harry felt his body heating up. "To me, just like Aunt Apolline, power is very attractive. Looks are not important, and neither is personality, so long as a man is powerful, be it politically or magically."

Harry took offense to that. Was she saying he wasn't good-looking? Before he could voice this, however, Giselle continued.

"You are a powerful wizard, Harry, and not only that, but you are also very handsome, and, according to Fleur, very kind. Whatever you wish, for this to be a one-night thing, or if you wish to pursue a relationship, it doesn't matter to me..." Giselle said, her voice lowering with every word, until she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I'm yours."

Harry felt himself heat up again, and he was sure that he was blushing pretty heavily from the implication of those words. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his ability to speak.

"I am... tempted, I admit," Harry said after a moment, feeling Giselle pressing herself against him. "But, you see, anyone associated with me, even a one-night thing, would become a target, see."

"Considerate, as well," Giselle purred. "But what if I don't care?"

"I don't think it's so much that I worry about you caring, as it is me worrying about myself caring. I could never allow someone to get tortured or killed just because of me. After I take care of Voldemort, though, I wouldn't have a problem with it."

"After..." Giselle hummed, a sound that was just as seductive as any other sound she made. "I can live with that. But how about I give you something to remember me by?" she whispered, and Harry felt something wet brush against his earlobe. Was that her tongue? "A night... of happiness... before you go to war?" Every pause was accentuated by Giselle kissing Harry on the neck, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.

He couldn't believe this was happening to him! Harry felt his head going mistier for every kiss she placed on his neck, and he noticed how she was slowly moving to his cheek. Then, she pulled back, looking into Harry's eyes.

"Okay..." Harry whispered breathlessly. The two leaned closer to each other. Kissing this girl, it was all Harry wanted at that moment.

Then, his eyes caught something large and silver falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Harry immediately pulled back to look at it, Giselle doing the same. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze absurdly in mid-dance. Then, the Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_

In the blink of an eye, Harry's walking stick had come soaring through the crowd, and he easily caught it. As soon as it touched his hand, it extended, reverting to its staff form. Many people were only just realizing that something strange had happened. Heads were still turning toward the silver cat as it vanished. Silence spread outward in cold ripples from the place where the Patronus had landed. Then somebody screamed.

"What's going on?" Giselle asked, looking rather panicked as she glanced around the panicking crowd. Guests were sprinting in all directions, and many were Disapparating, meaning that the protective enchantments around the Burrow had broken.

"This is what I was talking about," Harry said, his eyes hardening. He was getting ready for battle, when Sirius came running through the crowd, stopping in front of Harry.

"Hey, Harry, I know you are eager to fight and all, but this is the Ministry, innocent Aurors among the Death Eaters, just following orders!" Sirius said, obviously noticing the look in Harry's eyes. "You know, there's a time to fight, and there's a time to get the bloody hell away from here, and this is the latter! Let's go, alright?"

With that, Sirius Disapparated with a sharp crack. Harry sighed and turned to Giselle.

"Some other time, mademoiselle," he said with a shrug, then leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips, before Disapparating.

With a crack, he appeared in the Shrieking Shack, to find Sirius already there, looking out the window.

"As I thought, they came here as well," Sirius muttered. Harry moved up to the window and looked out. In the distance, he could see men, Aurors and Death Eaters, Apparating into view far, far away, heading in the direction of Sirius's ranch. Sirius sighed. "I'm glad I left the herd in Hogwarts today."

"This is bad, isn't it?" Harry asked, also sighing, to which Sirius nodded.

Two sharp cracks were heard, and the two whipped around. Harry had a red ball of magic building up in his hand, and Sirius's wand had a red glow to it as they got ready to Stun the newcomers, to find that it was just Tonks and Lupin, both of whom had their wands pointed at Sirius.

"What did you, Lupin, ask me right before the wedding?" Harry asked, glaring at the both of them.

"I asked you to be our child's godfather," Lupin said. "And Tonks has been with me all this time. Sirius, what was the first thing you said to James and me after your first meeting with Amelia Bones in fifth year?"

"She sprouted some nice ones," Sirius said immediately, a slight grin appearing on his face at the memory. Slowly, everyone lowered their arms.

"Dumbledore called a meeting," Lupin said. "Let's go."

Pretty soon, they all found themselves sitting in the War Room. Almost the entire Order was gathered, save for, understandably, the Weasley family, and some others.

"With the Ministry fallen, it will only be a matter of time before Voldemort attacks Hogwarts, the final obstacle in his path," Dumbledore spoke, standing up. "I want each and every one of you to be ready to defend the castle at all costs. Hogwarts must not fall, or else all is doomed."

"But no pressure, eh?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. Dumbledore looked down at him.

"I need you all to grasp the seriousness of this situation."

"Don't," Harry said immediately, pointing at Sirius, who had, as predicted, opened his mouth to speak. "And we do understand the seriousness, Albus. You don't have to tell us that all of Britain is buggered if Hogwarts falls. We already know."

"Odds are that Voldemort's name has once more been Taboo," Dumbledore spoke. "I hope that those of you who speak his name would refrain from doing such when not under the protective wards of Hogwarts, Avalon or Grimmauld Place."

"I take it I won't be going out much now?" Harry asked, sighing, and Dumbledore nodded, just as he thought he would.

"That is correct. It is you they are after, and until you feel that you are ready to face Voldemort, I think it would be best if you stayed here in Avalon."

"Well, then I better get started," Harry said, getting out of his chair and walking off. "Good luck, everyone, you all know the way out."

As soon as he left the room, Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out Merlin's notebook and opening it, reading while he walked.

–

A week later, Harry choked on his tea as he and Sirius sat in the dining hall, eating their breakfast. He was currently reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, and was appalled by what he saw on the front page.

"Have you seen this?" he demanded of Sirius, who looked up curiously from his cereal.

"Seen what?" he asked.

"'Today, the newly assigned Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, will start her interrogations of Muggle-borns. These thieves of our magic will...' Ugh, I can't read anymore..." Harry muttered as he folded the Prophet and tossed it onto the table. Sirius reached over and grabbed it, reading the front page. His eyes seemed to widen more and more the further into the article he got.

"'...will be placed in Azkaban where they belong...'" he read slowly. "That's not right... That's not right at all..."

"Definitely not..."

Harry saw Sirius glance at him. He was looking at Harry strangely, probably because Harry had taken a thoughtful pose, pondering.

"What are you thinking?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not...?"

"I am," Harry said, nodding. "I am going to take a trip to the Ministry of Magic."

It was because of that statement that, two hours later, Harry and Sirius stood in what looked to be an ordinary underground public toilet, tiled in grimy black and white. Harry was flipping a golden token into the air over and over, and Sirius looked bored, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"And would you tell me why no one is reacting to us?"

"A rather complicated Notice-Me-Not charm, my dearest godfather," Harry said with a smile, catching the token, which landed face up, the Ministry of Magic symbol gleaming in the light coming from above. "To anyone else, we look like Unspeakables, talking about... er, I don't know what, but something else."

Sirius looked impressed. "That's pretty good. I see you have inherited both Lily and James's magical prowess."

"Of course," Harry said, flipping the token into the air again. "Why settle for just one?"

"Morning, Reg!" came a voice from behind them, and they looked back to see a small, ferrety wizard get patted on the back by a wizard in the same kind of navy blue robes as him. "Blooming pain in the bum, this, eh? Forcing us all to get to work this way! Who are they expecting to show up, Harry Potter?"

Harry and Sirius looked at each other, then immediately looked away, so that they wouldn't burst into laughter. Smiling to themselves, they let themselves into adjoining cubicles by inserting their golden tokens into a slot in the doors.

To Harry's left and right came the sound of flushing. He crouched down and peered through the gap at the bottom of the cubicle, just in time to see a pair of booted feet climbing into the toilet next door.

He looked left, and saw Sirius staring at him.

"We have to flush ourselves?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, it looks like it," Sirius said, nodding.

"I'm not getting my boots drenched in toilet water," Harry said adamantly, gesturing for the boots he had picked up in Spain. Black leather riding boots, with a very intricate design carved into the leather. Although he wore his robes, as had become a habit for him, there was just no way he could part with his very nice, very comfortable boots. Foot comfort was important for powerful wizards, in Harry's opinion.

"Don't be such a baby," Sirius said as he clambered into the toilet. "I'm not wet."

Twitching, Harry did the same, and noticed that Sirius was right. Although he appeared to be standing in toilet water, his boots, and robes remained quite dry. He reached up, pulled the chain, and next moment had zoomed down a short chute, emerging out of a fireplace into the Ministry of Magic.

The great Atrium seemed darker than Harry remembered it. Previously a golden fountain had filled the center of the hall, casting shimmering spots of light over the polished wooden floor and walls. Now a gigantic statue of black stone dominated the scene. It was rather frightening, this vast sculpture of a witch and a wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones, looking down at the Ministry workers toppling out of fireplaces below them. Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words _MAGIC IS MIGHT_.

Harry walked up to the statue, looking more closely, and realized that what he had thought were decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans. Hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, were twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.

"Cute," Harry heard from behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see Sirius, who was looking up at the statue, disgust evident on his face. "Real cute..."

"I'm gonna destroy this thing when we leave," Harry said, nodding. "Definitely."

They joined the stream of witches and wizards moving toward the golden gates at the end of the hall. They passed through the gates and into a smaller hall, where queues were forming in front of twenty golden grilles housing as many lifts.

"I'm heading to Umbridge's office," Harry said to Sirius as they stepped into an empty lift. "You head on down to the courtrooms. I'll meet you down there once I've caused some havoc up there."

The grilles shut wit a clang, and the lift began to move upward.

"Should I be worried?" Sirius asked. "I don't feel worried, but it feels like I should..."

"Maybe you've grown soft in your old age?" Harry suggested, shrugging.

"Hey, I'm just as much a Marauder today as I was thirty years ago."

"You were a prankster at seven?" Harry asked incredulously. Sirius shrugged.

"Well, I had to do _something_ to distract myself from my family."

Within moments, the lift stopped, and the disembodied, female voice said, "Level one, Minister of Magic and Support Staff."

"Well, I'll see you down there," Harry said, waving to Sirius as the golden grilles slid apart. Humming, he walked out of the lift. Looking back, he saw Sirius's grinning face sinking back out of sight, and as soon as Sirius was gone, he dropped the Notice-Me-Not charm he'd placed on himself.

If someone saw him, and decided to attack, it was their loss. Whistling to himself, Harry set off down the thickly carpeted corridor. He passed gleaming wooden doors, each bearing a small plaque with the owner's name and occupation upon it. The might of the Ministry, its complexity, made it almost impossible to think that the Ministry could possible be inept at maintaining law and order. Harry, who'd had first-hand experience, wasn't fooled by its appearance.

He didn't know for how long he walked, but it was a long time, and he only passed a single wizard, who was frowning and muttering instructions to a quill that floated in front of him, scribbling on a trail of parchment. The wizard didn't even look up as he passed Harry.

Harry turned a corner, and halfway along the next corridor, he emerged into a wide, open space where a dozen witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks not unlike school desks, though much more highly polished and free from graffiti. Harry paused to watch them, because the effect was quite mesmerizing. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of colored paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a few seconds, Harry realized that there was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern, and after a few more seconds, he realized that what he was watching was the creation of pamphlets, that the paper squares were pages, which, when assembled, folded, and magicked into place, fell into neat stacks beside each witch or wizard.

Harry moved closer, and slid a completed pamphlet from the pile beside a young witch, examining it. Its pink cover was emblazoned with a golden title.

_**MUDBLOODS**_

_and the Dangers They Pose to_

_a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society_

Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl. There was no author's name on the pamphlet, but Harry could guess. Then, the young witch beside him confirmed his suspicion as she said, still waving and twirling her wand, "Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?"

"Careful," the wizard beside her said, glancing around nervously. When his eyes landed on Harry, a few of his pages slipped and fell to the floor as his jaw dropped.

"What, she's standing right behind me?" the witch mocked, scoffing as she turned around. Then, she saw Harry as well. She gave a startled little shriek, which shocked everyone enough to make them stop and look. Harry looked around, giving everyone there a murderous glare, which made the witch he was standing next to cower away from him, falling out of her chair in the process.

Giving one last glare, Harry turned away from the workers, and found the door he was looking for. The plaque on the door read:

_**DOLORES UMBRIDGE**_

_Senior Undersecretary to the Minister_

Below that, a slightly shinier new plaque read:

_Head of the Muggle-born_

_Registration Commission_

Harry grabbed the doorknob, and channeled his magic into it. He could almost imagined the looks on the stunned Ministry workers' faces as the wooden door actually melted into a puddle, smelling strongly of burnt wood. As he stepped inside, he was immediately appalled by the sheet girlish feel of the office. Lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered every available surface. The walls were filled with ornamental plates, each featuring a highly colored, beribboned kitten, gamboling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth.

"Let's see here..." Harry muttered as he walked up to the desk, opening the drawers. He found quills and notebooks and Spellotapes, enchanted paper clips that coiled snakelike from their drawer and had to be beaten back, and a fussy little lace bow full of spare hair bows and clips.

Waving his hand over the desk, he watched as the quills in the top drawer quivered. They would now attack whoever touched them, which would be Umbridge. Then, he touched the lace box, and transfigured the bows into earthworms.

Next, he moved over to a filing cabinet behind the desk. Like Filch's cabinets at Hogwarts, it was full of folders, each labeled with a name. It wasn't until Harry reached the bottommost drawer that he saw something interesting: Mr. Weasley's file.

He pulled it out and opened it.

_**ARTHUR WEASLEY**_

_Blood status: Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro-Muggle leanings. Known member of the Order of the Phoenix._

_Family: Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts._

_Security status: TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable No. 1 will contact (has stayed with Weasley family previously)_

"Undesirable Number One," Harry muttered, shaking his head. Judging by the lack of noise coming from outside, the workers were either too shocked, or too afraid to sound an alarm. He replaced Mr. Weasley's folder and took out another file.

_**HERMIONE GRANGER**_

_Blood status: Mudblood_

_Family: Parents (Muggles)_

_Security statues: WANTED. Parents. Wanted for interrogation. Likely at Hogwarts. Undesirable No. 2_

Harry scoffed and replaced Hermione's files as well. With a wave of his wand, the people in the folders were replaced by other people, such as Voldemort, Umbridge, Thicknesse, Yaxley, and all the other Death Eaters.

With his job now done, Harry turned and walked out of the office, but not before waving his hand at the walls. All the plates on the walls lost their sickeningly cute cats, and were replaced with the scowling face of Harry on each and every one of them.

"What's going on here?" Harry heard as he reached the doorway. "Why are you not working?"

Harry looked outside, to see Pius Thicknesse, the Minister of Magic. His long black hair and beard were streaked with silver, and a great overhanging forehead shadowed his glinting eyes, putting Harry in mind of a crab looking out from beneath a rock. The man was scowling at the witches and wizards who were supposed to be working on the pamphlets. The witch closest to Thicknesse pointed shakily to the doorway of Umbridge's office, at Harry. When Thicknesse looked, his eyes went wide with shock.

"Pot-"

Harry didn't allow him to finish, immediately blasting the Minister with a Stunner. The Minister was thrown off his feet and landed on the carpeted floor with a thud. Harry looked over the workers.

"You didn't see anything," he said calmly as he walked off. "And try to tone down on the prejudice, or you'll all be fired once I'm Minister."

With that, he headed back the way he came, whistling all the while. He stepped into the lift, and headed down.

The lift stopped on level three, and Mr. Weasley walked inside, talking to an elderly witch, whose blond hair was teased so high it resembled an anthill.

"...I quite understand what you're saying, Wakanda, but I'm afraid I cannot be party to-"

Mr. Weasley broke off. He had noticed Harry, who had once more cast the Notice-Me-Not charm on himself. It was strange, seeing Mr. Weasley look at him as if he didn't recognize him. After a moment, Mr. Weasley nodded in greeting, and Harry nodded back. The lift stopped on the next level, and the anthill-haired woman got off. Now that only Mr. Weasley and Harry were left in the lift, Harry dropped the charm and spoke to Mr. Weasley, who had his back turned.

"Don't turn around, Arthur," he told the Weasley patriarch, who had repeatedly asked him to call him Arthur. "It's Harry."

Mr. Weasley jumped, but he did as he was told.

"Merlin's beard, Harry," he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know me, causing mayhem. Just coming back from redecorating Umbridge's office and Stunning our beloved Minister."

Mr. Weasley couldn't help but chuckle.

"Only you, Harry... Only you could talk about something like that so lightly..."

"Arthur, I need you to stay away from any future Order meeting," Harry whispered. "You're being tracked. They're watching your every move. Just pretend that you're a normal wizard who does his job, never having any contact with any Undesirables, alright? If you don't, you'll be in trouble, your family will be in trouble, and the Order will be in trouble, alright?"

"Alright, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, nodding. "I've been feeling watched lately, but I didn't think it was that bad."

The lift stopped, and Harry once more cast the Notice-Me-Not charm on himself as the doors opened. Mr. Weasley nodded to Harry once, before leaving, stepping into the Atrium. The lift doors clanged shut, and the lift started descending again.

When the doors opened next, Harry stepped out into a torch-lit stone passageway quite different from the wood-paneled and carpeted corridors above. As the lift rattled away again, Harry looked toward the distant black door that marked the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.

He found Sirius waiting for him halfway down the hall, next to a doorway on the left-hand side, which, according to what Mr. Weasley had told him, opened onto the flight of stairs down to the court chambers.

"Hello, Harry!" Sirius said happily, waving at him. "Fancy meeting you down here!"

"Well, well, Padfoot! No dogs allowed down here, I'm afraid," Harry said. They both chuckled as they headed down the flight of stairs. "Is Umbridge here?"

"And Yaxley," Sirius confirmed with a nod. "Right nutters they are, those two," he muttered. "They looked positively gleeful when they came here, like Christmas had come early, or something."

An unnatural chill was creeping over them, as if they were descending into fog. It was becoming colder and colder with every step they took. It was a cold that reached right down into Harry's throat and tore at his lungs. And then he felt that stealing sense of despair, of hopelessness, filling him, expanding inside him...

"I hate dementors," Sirius muttered next to him. "Hey, is there any way for you to tweak this Notice-Me-Not so that they can actually hear what I'm saying?"

Harry nodded and snapped his fingers. Sirius shivered at the sensation of the charm being modified.

"There, now they can hear both of us."

As they reached the foot of the stairs and turned to their right, they came upon a dreadful scene. The dark passage outside the courtrooms was packed with tall, black-hooded figures, their faces completely hidden, their ragged breathing the only sound in the place. The petrified Muggle-borns brought in for questioning sat huddled and shivering on hard wooden benches. Most of them were hiding their faces in their hands, perhaps in an instinctive attempt to shield themselves from the dementors' greedy mouths. Some were accompanied by families, others sat alone. The dementors were gliding up and down in front of them, and the cold, the hopelessness, and the despair of the place laid themselves upon Harry like a curse...

Moving through the dementors was a pain. The dementors all turned as they passed, probably sensing that they both had plenty of joy in them. However, when they turned to Harry, they abruptly turned away, and glided out of his path.

"What's all this?" Sirius whispered to Harry, who shrugged.

"I guess they remember me," he guessed, and just then, abruptly and shockingly amid the frozen silence, one of the dungeon doors on the left of the corridor was flung open and screams echoed out of it.

"No, no, I'm half-blood, I'm half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he _was_, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he's a well-known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you... get your hands off me, get your hands off-"

"This is your final warning," Umbridge's voice said, magically magnified so that it sounded clearly over the man's desperate screams. "If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor's Kiss."

The man's screams subsided, but dry sobs echoed through the corridor.

"Take him away," Umbridge said.

Two dementors appeared in the doorway of the courtroom, their rotting, scabbed hands clutching the upper arms of a wizard who appeared to be fainting. They glided away down the corridor with him, and the darkness they trailed behind them swallowed him from sight.

"Next... Mary Cattermole," Umbridge called.

A small woman stood up. She was trembling from head to foot. Her dark hair was smoothed back into a bun and she wore long, plain robes. Her face was completely bloodless. As she passed the dementor's, Harry saw her shudder.

Nudging Sirius, who grinned, he followed Mrs. Cattermole into the courtroom, Sirius right behind him.

It was a reasonably large room, with a very high ceiling, which gave the claustrophobic sense of being stuck at the bottom of a deep well.

There were more dementors in here, casting their freezing aura over the place. They stood like faceless sentinels in the corners farthest from the high, raised platform. Here, behind a balustrade, sat Umbridge, with Yaxley on one side of her, and a rather mousy woman on the other. At the foot of the platform, a bright-silver, long-haired cat prowled up and down, up and down, and Harry realized that it was there to protect the prosecutors from the despair that emanated from the dementors. That was for the accused to feel, not the accusers.

"Sit down," Umbridge said in her soft, silky voice. Then, however, she noticed Harry and Sirius. "And what are you two doing here?"

"Huh?" Sirius asked, glancing around. "This is not our office," he muttered.

"That's true," Harry said thoughtfully, also looking around in confusion. "But we were supposed to study the effect of magic on disgusting toads and ugly Death Eaters, and... well..." Harry gestured for Umbridge and Yaxley. "You see for yourself..."

"What did you say?" Yaxley demanded, rising from his seat.

"Scratch that," Harry said, not looking at Yaxley. "Ugly _and deaf_ Death Eaters."

"Maybe there's a magical cure for that to be found for that..." Sirius said thoughtfully. "Well, for the deafness, anyway. No magic in the world could manage to fix something _that _ugly..."

"Why you-"

Before Yaxley could finish, Harry dropped the Notice-Me-Not charms on the both of them, and smiled brightly.

"Hi!" he said happily, savoring the shocked looks on Umbridge and Yaxley's faces. Then, he raised his hand, pointing at Yaxley. A red jet of magic shot from his hand at the same time as another Stunner flew from Sirius's wand. Umbridge and Yaxley were thrown out of their seats before they even had the time to react. The silver cat vanished immediately. A wave of coldness washed over them, but for some reason, the dementors didn't move. Instead, they were just 'watching' Harry, seeming quite apprehensive.

"Sirius, be a dear and take Mrs. Cattermole and the Muggle-borns outside out of here, will you? I'm going to have a little talk with these guys," Harry said, nodding toward the dementors.

"Hey, are you, er, sane, Harry?" Sirius asked. Then, he seemed to realize what he'd just said, and shook his head. "No scratch that, I knew you were insane the second you said that you wanted to come here, and I'm insane for coming with you, but are you even more insane than that? At least conjure a Patronus!" he hissed.

"No, that won't be necessary, I think," Harry said calmly. He glanced at Sirius, giving him a look that left no room for argument. Sirius sighed, and gestured for the shocked Mrs. Cattermole to follow him. Once Sirius was out of the room, Harry felt even colder, and looked behind him to see the dementors from outside gliding into the room. They formed a circle around him, but nobody moved.

"You all remember me, don't you?" he asked, looking from each dementor to the next. The ragged breathing sped up all around him, and he took that as a yes. "Do you, by any chance... fear me?" For every second that passed, he felt himself getting more and more used to the feeling from the dementors, and with that came courage. He could even smirk at the dementors now. "I know what you creatures are. You are scum. You are disgusting crimes against nature... Abominations..."

The dementors seemed to be proud of this, as he noticed that they didn't get aggravated.

"No one knows how to kill you, or you would all be extinct by now. But make no mistake, one day, people will work out a way to do it, and when they do, I will learn, and I will personally hunt down and kill every last one of you. _If_, that is, you are on the wrong side..." He knew he had their attention now. They dementors were gliding back and forth, side-to-side, seeming agitated at the prospect of being vanquished. "Now, Azkaban is good for you. There, you get to feed on the joy of the prisoners, you get to live, and the people of Britain don't have to worry about the lot of you. If you side with me, I will let you go back there, and I will stop any attempt at killing you that people may try. If you choose to go against me, however, you will all be in a world of hurt. Do I make myself clear?"

The rattling breathing started speeding up once more as the dementors stilled. Were they thinking it over?

Then, after a few moments of stillness, one of the dementors bent at the waist, lowering itself into a deep bow, quickly followed by the others. Harry smiled and nodded.

"Very good. Go back to Azkaban, let your people know."

With that, he left the courtroom, humming as he made his way back to the lift.

The lift jerked to a halt, the grilles opened, and he stepped out into the Atrium, to find that it was packed with people, talking loudly amongst themselves. Apparently, Sirius had caused quite a bit of commotion taking all the Muggle-borns out of there. Making his way through the crowd, Harry pressed his thumb down on his ring, a domed shield appearing around him, and for a good reason, too.

"Is that...?" a wizard muttered as Harry passed him. "Merlin's beard, it's Harry Potter!" he cried loudly in realization. Immediately, the crowd went silent, and Harry felt everyone's eyes on him. The crowd dispersed, and Harry found himself standing in the open, with several wizards pointing their wands at him. Smiling, Harry reverted his walking stick to staff form and took a good look around.

Golden bars had been conjured in front of all the fireplaces, sealing them off, the only way out. The statue was right in front of him, and to the left, right and behind him were Aurors and Snatchers, Muggle-born catchers, all of them with their wands out.

Spells started flying, and Harry was sure they were immensely shocked when their spells, Stunners, Disarming Charms, and curses and jinxes of all kinds, merely splashed harmlessly against his shield. Only someone on Dumbledore or Voldemort's level of power would be able to smash his shield. To add insult to injury, Harry ignored the wizards around him and merely pointed his staff at the statue. The black stone changed color to white, now looking more like white marble. Next, its shape started changing. It seemingly melted into a white blob, and then started taking shape. The end result made Harry laugh. It was a very accurate statue of Voldemort, on his hands and knees. A house-elf, looking exactly like Dobby, was sitting in a saddle strapped to Voldemort's back. Voldemort himself had a look of utter surprise on his face, and a horse bit in his mouth.

"Well, my work here is done," Harry said and pressed the fingers of his free hand to his temple, concentrating as he stared up at the ceiling. A sharp crack, like fifty Apparations combined, sounded through the Atrium, signaling that the anti-Apparation wards had been shattered.

"Gentlemen," Harry said, giving his attackers a deep bow. "I will now take my leave! Have a good day."

With that, he Disapparated.

–

Bill's resounding laughter the next day made Harry feel very good. He was pleased to hear that his presence at their wedding, which was what caused the Death Eaters to appear, hadn't upset him too much.

"Only you, Harry!" Bill said, his eyes tearing from laughter as the two sat in the kitchen of the Shell Corrage, Bill and Fleur's house, a lonely and beautiful place by the coast of Tinworth, Cornwall. "Did you see the headline in the Prophet? 'Undesirable Number One mocks the Ministry!' I heard you did quite a number on the statue in the Atrium."

"Well, I felt a need to show them what I truly thought of their new statue," Harry said, shrugging. "I couldn't think of another way."

"Yes, it was quite amusing," Fleur said, entering the kitchen.

"My word, Fleur!" Harry exclaimed, looking the part-veela over. She was dressed very... casually, only a plain, powder-blue dress under a white apron. "You look right at home in the role of wife!"

"Quite surprising, non?" Fleur asked, twirling on the spot. "I suppose you, like everyone else, zought zat I would be some kind of gold digger, going from man to man?"

"You certainly have the looks for it," Harry said, grinning.

Fleur hummed thoughtfully. "You know, so does Giselle."

Harry felt himself blush as he looked away from Fleur, who laughed. Bill, evil as he was, laughed as well.

"So, why did you come here, Harry?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I needed to go somewhere that was out of the way," Harry said with a shrug, "and I can't exactly go back to Avalon, 'cause Albus will probably be waiting for me there, ready to chew me out for recklessly infiltrating the Ministry. But hey, I did a lot of good in there! I redecorated Umbridge's office, nailed the pathetic excuse for a Minister in the face with a Stunner, recruited the Dementors, and saved your dad."

"You what, and you what?" Bill asked, and Harry saw that his eyes were wider than he'd ever seen them. "Recruited the dementors? Saved my dad?"

"He was being tracked by the Ministry," Harry said, shrugging. "So I told him to stay away from any future Order meetings, so that he didn't get into trouble. As for the dementors... well, they remember me from my third year. They're a bit afraid, I think."

"Like I said, only you, Harry," Bill said, shaking his head in disbelief. Harry could hear him muttering "...scaring dementors..." among other things between sipping his tea, which made Harry and Fleur laugh.

"Well, I should get back," Harry said as he stood up, stretching. "Albus is probably eager to chastise me."

"Good luck, 'Arry," Fleur said, smiling as Harry shook Bill's hand.

"Enjoy the preaching," Bill said, grinning.

"Yeah, right," Harry said with a scoff. "I-"

He got no further, as just then, two balls of silver soared into the Shell Cottage through the open window. One of them took the form of a Phoenix, and the other took the shape of a very Grim-like dog.

"_Hogwarts is under attack,"_ the Phoenix spoke in Dumbledore's voice, just as the Grim told Harry, _"Harry, he's attacking the school. Come immediately."_

Harry shared a look with Bill and Fleur, before all three of them rushed out of the house as the Patronuses vanished. As soon as they got out of the anti-Apparation wards, they disappeared.

Harry reappeared in Hogsmeade, suspecting that Bill and Fleur had Apparated into the Shrieking Shack. He looked toward the school and saw that, indeed, Grawp, Hagrid's giant half-brother, was an undersized giant. The gargantuan monsters that were storming the castle were huge! They were at least twenty feet high!

Harry rose into the air and shot off toward the school. The lawns were filled with wizards and bodies. The giants didn't seem to care who they stepped on as they charged the castle, apparently intent on smashing as much as possible.

Harry was torn. He didn't know if he should take care of the giants or Voldemort first. Coming to a decision, Harry flew straight toward the giant oak doors, which had been blasted to pieces, and light was flashing from the doorway every few seconds. He noticed that all fighting near the entrance hall had ceased, and Harry lightly set down in the doorway.

Everyone were still, staring into the Great Hall, and Harry made his way through the crowd.

Voldemort and Dumbledore were locked in a duel in the Great Hall. The floor underneath them had shattered from the power they put out, although Dumbledore looked very tired, while Voldemort looked excited. Spells were sent back and forth at incredible speeds, so fast that Harry could hardly even keep up. Harry was powerful, and fast, but he doubted that he could block and counter spells at that speed.

He was shaken from his thoughts as a flash of white brought his attention back to the duel. Dumbledore had been knocked off his feet, and his back thudded against the shattered floor hard at Harry's feet. Voldemort, taking advantage of this, pointed his wand at Dumbledore.

"Expelliarmus," he hissed, and everyone watched as the Elder Wand soared out of Dumbledore's hand and into Voldemort's. The spectators around them gasped from shock, while the Death Eaters cheered as Voldemort held up the wand triumphantly. Dumbledore panted at Harry's feet, looking weaker and older than he had ever looked. Silently, Harry knelt and wrapped an arm around the struggling Dumbledore, helping him to his feet.

"H-Harry?" Dumbledore stuttered as he saw Harry, but Harry didn't look at him. He was only staring hard at Voldemort, who just now seemed to notice him.

"Ah, welcome, Potter," Voldemort hissed as Harry took a step forward, then another. The movements around them, which had started the second Voldemort became the victor of his duel with Dumbledore, now ceased once more. Voldemort pointed his newly won wand at Harry. "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry's hand twitched, and a rather large chunk of rock soared up in front of him, just as a shield was conjured behind it. The extremely powerful Killing Curse smashed into the rock, shattering it completely and sending shrapnel flying everywhere. Harry was shielded from the shrapnel. He thrust his staff toward Voldemort, who conjured a shield just in time to deflect a ball of red magic, a smirk appearing on his face.

"Following Dumbledore's footsteps, are you, Potter?" he taunted coldly. "Are you not aiming to kill me?"

"There is more than one way to vanquish you, Riddle," Harry said, seeing Voldemort's eyes narrow at the name. He slashed his wand at Harry, whose eyes widened slightly as he saw five different curses flying at him.

Harry's hand shot up, and a shimmering, blood red shield appeared in front of him, intercepting the curses and sending them bouncing off. He brought the tip of his staff to his mouth and blew hard. A massive, fiery dragon head, a Hungarian Horntail, materialized in front of the staff and shot off toward Voldemort, who slashed his wand upward. Unlike the last time, the Fiendfyre didn't disappear. Reacting as if struck, the fire shot straight up, but looped and dove for Voldemort again.

Voldemort gave a loud cry as he thrust his wand out. A snake made of fire shot out of it and crashed into the Horntail. The two fires wrapped around each other, biting whatever they could reach, and slowly formed into a ball, chaining Harry's staff and Voldemort's wand to each other. Harry's hand shot out, and he had to use both his staff and his hand to keep the fire under control. Risking a glance at Voldemort around the ball, he saw that the Dark Lord was holding his wand with both hands, a look of absolute hatred on his face. Seeing Voldemort like this, feeling just how much power he had... Harry shuddered at the thought of just how powerful he might be had he knows of his heritage as a Prime.

Another cry was heard from Voldemort, and Harry's eyes widened as he saw the ball, and subsequently his staff, get pulled toward Voldemort. The pull was made with such force that it pulled Harry off his feet. The ball of Fiendfyre shrunk and simply formed a thick rope of fire between the two of them. With a smirk, Voldemort cracked his wand like a whip, and Harry watched as a wave formed in the fire rope, heading for him quickly.

When the wave reached Harry's staff, a crack like a gunshot was heard, and Harry felt himself get shot into the air as the fire disappeared. He was flying in an arch straight toward Voldemort, who made a series on intricate wand movements, before stabbing it up toward Harry.

A massive ball of sickly green magic soared toward Harry. Luckily, Harry had his flight, which enabled him to dodge, even in midair. The magic soared past him and splashed against the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Harry's eyes widened in surprise when he saw the stone melt away, dripping chunks of melted stone to the floor, and creating an opening to the outside.

Harry raised his hand as he saw another spell cast from Voldemort. Still in the air, he blocked the spell with a shield and thrust his staff toward Voldemort.

Voldemort dodged, and the blast of magic shattered the floor where he had been standing, destroying it more than it already was. A audible growl was heard, and Harry raised an eyebrow when he saw Voldemort rise into the air. He didn't have time to react, however, before Voldemort shot off, out of the hole in the ceiling. Obviously, he wanted a bigger playing field. Harry, not objecting at all, followed.

He stuck on Voldemort's tail as they flew higher and higher into the air. They were a good two hundred feet above Hogwarts when Voldemort finally stopped.

"You are good, Potter," Voldemort said, hovering in the air and turning toward Harry, who had stopped eighty or so feet away from him, hovering at the same height. "I admit that much. Why do you waste your potential on this useless cause? Do you not agree that people like us, like you and I, we deserve better than anyone?"

"Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth, Riddle," Harry said coldly. "There will be only one way to end this little duel."

"So be it," Voldemort hissed, and immediately stabbed his wand toward Harry, who effortlessly blocked the spell with another glowing shield.

He had been wrong, Harry. As he soared through the air, dodging, blocking, countering, attacking, Harry realized that he was just as fast as Dumbledore and Voldemort were. His blood was pumping now. He was in the air, where he belonged, and that somehow released something in him. He let loose.

Dodging a Killing Curse from Voldemort, Harry cocked his arm back, holding his staff at the very bottom of it. A blade much like that of a scythe formed at the top of the staff, and with a mighty cry, he hurled it at Voldemort, who gave a laugh as he ducked it.

"Reckless, Potter!" he roared as he fired five consecutive spells so fast that they looked like they had been cast at the same time. A small shield shimmered into existence in front of each of Harry's hand, and he batted the spells aside like they were nothing. Then, he twitched his fingers.

Voldemort raised his wand, probably ready to block anything Harry threw at him. He probably hadn't expected, however, that Harry's staff would smash into the back of his skull, having been summoned by Harry. Voldemort lost focus on his flying, and Harry suspected that he had also lost consciousness. Catching his staff, he dove toward the falling Dark Lord.

When he reached Voldemort, Harry wrapped his arms around him from behind, locking his arms to his sides, and then dove straight toward the opening to the Great Hall. The ground was getting closer and closer, and just as they reached the opening, Harry let go of Voldemort and veered off. A massive boom was heard as the body of Voldemort impacted with the floor, and Harry slowly floated down, into the Great Hall to see a large cloud of dust settling. Voldemort's body, from the chest down, was sticking out from the floor, the rest buried under it. Harry sighed as he set down lightly on the floor, shaking his head.

"It's a shame..." he muttered and turned away. Then, he heard it. The crack of a joint, then another, and another. Slowly, he turned around and saw Voldemort pushing his body out of the hole in the ground. He felt his jaw drop. "No way..."

"Did you truly think it would be that easy, Potter?" Voldemort demanded after pulling his head out of the ground and straightening up. "Guess again."

Harry immediately dodged a Killing Curse, and his eyes went cold.

"Enough!" he called with a force in his voice that made it sound like he had cast Sonorus on himself.

Voldemort, surprisingly, froze, and Harry took advantage of this.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he spoke slowly, with a coldness in his voice that he didn't even think was possible. "For too long have you been allowed to run around, torturing, killing, terrorizing... If you had used that amazing power righteously, and taken the right path, you would have been able to lead the magical world into a bright future..."

Voldemort's brow furrowed, and confusion was clearly visible on his face.

"What is this? A lecture, Potter?" he hissed, his scarlet eyes narrowing.

"For too long have you taken the easy path, the path of cruelty and malice..." Harry continued, not bothering with answering Voldemort. "I didn't want to have to use this, but you leave me no choice. For the sake of the man you could have become, I will give you until the count of three..." Harry stabbed his staff deep into the floor and let go. The staff stood vertically on its own as Harry held his hands out about a foot from his chest. His palms were facing each other, his right hand over his left with just a few inches between them. "Kneel, Riddle, and beg for forgiveness..."

"Kneel?" Voldemort asked, his eyes wide. Harry saw his pupils shaking, as if vibrating, displaying the madness in them. "_You_... are asking _me_... to _kneel_?"

"Try for some remorse, Riddle," Harry said as a bright, white spark ignited between his palms. "One..."

"YOU ARE ASKING ME TO KNEEL, POTTER?" Voldemort demanded, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike.

"Two..." Harry muttered, ignoring Voldemort.

"YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE KNEELING BEFORE ME! NOW DIE! CRUMBLE TO DUST AND VANISH FROM THE FACE OF HISTORY, POTTER!" Voldemort roared, and with the same speed as before, the Dark Lord fired five consecutive Killing Curses, but the shield appeared in front of Harry again, and stones rose to intercept the spells.

"Three... That's quite enough from you..."

The spark grew into an orb of bright light, brighter than even a Patronus, and Harry saw a bit of fear enter Voldemort's eyes as the magic kept building. Voldemort whipped his wand, and three bodies came soaring through the air, coming to a stop in front of him, probably in a Full Body-Bind. Harry saw Hermione, Sirius and Lupin.

"DO IT, THEN, POTTER! SHOW HOW COLD-HEARTED YOU CAN BE! YOU WOULD KILL YOUR LOVED ONES JUST TO GET TO ME?"

"It'll be alright," Harry whispered, and he felt a pleasant smile break out on his face as he tore his gaze away from the human shields, to lock with Voldemort's eyes. Harry clapped his hands together. "Iudicium Pristis had been invoked..."

The light grew and grew, enveloping everyone in its light. It covered the entire Great Hall in its light, but didn't stop there. It grew even more, encasing the entire castle in a dome of light, growing still larger to cover the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade. Screams were heard all around him, and roars came from the giants outside, but nothing could be seen through the bright light.

Then, slowly but surely, the dome of light started shrinking once more. Within minutes, it had shrunken so much that the Great Hall started coming into view. It shrunk back into a ball of magic between Harry's palms, back into a spark, and then vanished. The scene around them was vastly different now. Voldemort, who had been standing, glaring at Harry, was now on the floor in a fetal position. What little fat he had built up on his body was completely gone, his eyes were rolled up to only show the bloodshot whites of his eyes, his mouth was open in a silent scream, and he was trembling violently, twitching every now and then.

Voldemort wasn't the only one, though. All around them, the Death Eaters were all in the same fetal position, all of them trembling, looking like they had gazed upon the gates of hell.

"The Dragon Order has passed its judgment," Harry spoke quietly into the silence, his voice carrying across the entire Great Hall. "You, who so prized magic, and accused others of stealing it, have lost your magic, which will be in my possession until such time I deem you worthy of getting it back..."

Slowly, Harry walked up to Voldemort, past Hermione, Sirius and Lupin, who had been released from their Full Body-Binds, and knelt in front of Voldemort, picking up both his wands.

"Death is too good for you, Riddle," he whispered to Voldemort. "Enjoy life as a Muggle..."

With that, Harry stood up once again and walked over to Dumbledore, holding out the Elder wand. Slowly, cautiously, Dumbledore took it.

"Thank you, my boy."

Those words broke the silence. The tumult broke around Harry as the screams, the cheers, and the roars of the watchers rent the air. They thundered toward him, and the first to reach him were Hermione, Sirius, and Lupin, and it was their arms that were wrapped around him, their incomprehensible shouts that deafened him. Then, Ron, Ginny, Nevile, and Luna were there, and then all the Weasleys and Hagrid, and Kingsley and McGonagall, and Flitwick and Sprout, and Harry couldn't hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of them determined to touch the Boy-Who-Lived, now the Man-Who-Won, the reason it was over at last...

The Great Hall blazed with life and light as Harry was pulled inside, an indispensable part of the mingled outpourings of jubilation and mourning, of grief and celebration. They wanted him there with them, their leader and symbol, their savior and their guide. He spoke to the bereaved, clasped their hands, witnessed their tears, received their thanks, heard the news now creeping in from every quarter as the day drew on, that the Imperiused up and down the country had come back to themselves, that the Death Eaters who hadn't been at Hogwarts were fleeing or else being captured, that the innocent of Azkaban were being released at that very moment, and that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister of Magic...

The dead were moved to a better place, the de-magicked Death Eaters and Voldemort were brought to Azkaban, while the dead giants outside were carried into the Forbidden Forest by Grawp, and the house-elves whipped up an excellent feast. Harry was seated up at the Head Table, next to Dumbledore, and everyone ate, laughed, mourned, and cried together. Once everyone were full, the food vanished, and Harry, prompted by Dumbledore, stood up with the headmaster and left the Great Hall, shaking hands and getting hugs and kisses as he passed the people.

Great chunks were missing from the marble staircase, part of the balustrade gone, and rubble and bloodstains occurred every few steps as they climbed.

Somewhere in the distance, they could hear Peeves zooming through the corridors singing a victory song of his own composition:

_We did it, we bashed them wee Potter's the one,_

_And Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!_

Harry smiled slightly at Peeves's antics, and he could hear Dumbledore's chuckle next to him. Within moments, they arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's study.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore muttered. "Are you quite alright?"

The gargoyle had been knocked aside. It stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore. It groaned in response to Dumbledore's question.

"Can we go up?" Harry asked.

"Feel free," it groaned.

They clambered over him and onto the spiral staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Dumbledore pushed open the door at the top.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said with a sigh as he strode over to his desk and sat down in his chair, Harry sitting in his usual seat, "I daresay we only have a few moments before you will be pulled back to join the celebrations."

"And before Madam Pomfrey comes pestering you," Harry added, to which Dumbledore chuckled.

"Was that, perhaps, one of Merlin's unfinished spells?"

"It was," Harry said with a nod. "It's still unfinished, though," he added as he held up his hands, which were red, looking almost burned. "It's just some magical damage. It'll pass soon."

"I am very proud of you, Harry. You have defeated Voldemort, and you have made sure that he can never harm another person again, _without_ killing him."

At that, applause immediately broke out all around the walls. The headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation. They waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other's hands, they danced up and down on the chairs in which they had been painted. Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly, and Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear trumpet.

"I want you to have this," Dumbledore said as he reached into his robes and pulled out the Elder Wand, holding it out to Harry, who took it with a raised eyebrow.

"My magical output is too strong even for this wand," Harry said as he held up his walking stick. "That's why I have this, remember?"

"But I still want you to have it, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling brightly. "I think you are best suited for it. If you do not wish to use it, you can just hide it in Avalon."

"That's true," Harry said, and he pocketed the wand with a nod.

"So, what are you planning on doing now, my boy?" Dumbledore asked as Harry stood up. Harry hummed as he looked out the window.

"Mourn the dead, celebrate my victory, and secure a date with a beautiful French girl."

Dumbledore chuckled, patting his chest. "I, myself, will remain here, until such time comes when I find a suitable replacement."

"Once she gets more experience, I suggest Hermione," Harry said, walking toward the door. "She would be a great headmistress for the school."

Dumbledore didn't respond. He just hummed. Harry opened the door and looked back.

"I'll see you around, Albus."

"Have fun, Harry."

As Harry closed the door behind him, he smiled to himself. It was time to start working on the perfect future.

–

_And that, as they say, is that. What, you expected there to be some epic Dumbledore versus Grindelwald level duel? Come on, haven't you figured out by now that Harry was much more powerful than Voldemort, and that a long duel would have just been a waste of energy? Anyway, that's that, the war was won, Harry fulfilled the prophecy, and didn't actually kill Voldemort. Instead, he reduced him to that which he hated the most: a Muggle. The prophecy only said that he had the power to vanquish the Dark Lord. Vanquishing the Dark Lord doesn't necessarily mean killing Tom Riddle. Hm... I think we have time for a little more of the story, of what happened afterward._

–

–

_**EPILOGUE**_

–

In a cottage in Godric's Hollow, in the first bedroom to the right on the second floor, lay an old wizard in his bed. His eyes were closed, and with his weak breathing, his chest rising and falling ever so slowly, he looked almost dead, a peaceful expression on his face. The open closet was filled with colorful robes decorated with stars and moons. His beard, extremely long and silver, lay on top of his covers.

As the door to the bedroom opened, so did the old man's eyes, and a smile came upon his face when he saw who was standing there.

"Ah, Minerva," he spoke weakly, and a very familiar twinkle entered his eyes. "Is he here?"

"He is here, Albus," Minerva McGonagall said with a nod. A man passed her, walking into the room.

The man's raven black hair was an absolute mess, wild and untameable. His eyes, emerald green, softened when he looked at the old man in the bed. His face, though still looking quite young, had seen its fair share of battles, as he had a scar under his left eye, which went all the way down to the center of his cheek, and a smaller scar on the right side, by his jawline. But the most eye-catching wasn't his hair, or his glasses, or his very beautiful black and gold robes, or even the staff he held in his hand. It was the scar on his forehead, over his left eye, which was in the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Well, good morning, Minister," the old man said, his eyes twinkling madly.

Harry Potter, now thirty-eight and Minister of Magic, chuckled as he waved his hand. A very comfortable leather recliner appeared by the old man's bed. He smiled as he ran a hand over his goatee, having long since switched to it from the mutton chops, at his wife's urging, of course.

"How are you doing, Albus?"

"Getting weaker and weaker for each day that passes, I am afraid," Albus Dumbledore said with a smile. "I can no longer even leave my bed."

"Anything I can do?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, and Albus shook his head.

"No, of course not, my boy," he said peacefully. "This is a journey I feel that I have been postponing for far too long."

Harry reached into the pocket of his fine velvet, high-collared vest, never having been one for wearing a waistcoat, and took out the pocket watch he had gotten on his seventeenth birthday.

"Well, I have the whole day off. You want me to stay?"

"If it is not too much trouble," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I do not have very long left, so I would appreciate some company."

Harry leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath, then exhaled, a soft smile appearing on his face.

"It all worked out in the end, didn't it?" he asked, and Dumbledore nodded.

"That it did, Harry. That it did." Dumbledore reached out weakly and patted Harry on the knee. "I could not be prouder of you, my boy, and I am sure that Lily and James would be as well."

The two went silent, as Harry patted Dumbledore on the hand, both smiling at each other.

"And how are the children? Unless senility has finally hit, Adrian started his first year this year, did he not?"

"That he did," Harry said, smiling. "Gryffindor, just like the rest of us."

"I suspected as much," Dumbledore said as he nodded slowly. "How is he doing?"

"He was nervous, at first, especially with James teasing him and telling him outrageous stories about basilisks in the plumbing and acromantulas in the broom closets," Harry said with a laugh, which was mimicked by Dumbledore.

"And James must be in his... third year?"

"He is," Harry confirmed. "And Arienne is in her seventh year," he informed the old former headmaster, knowing that he would ask. "She is pretty nervous, facing her NEWTs and all."

"And has she decided on her career yet?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry asked, chuckling, and Dumbledore nodded.

"Ah, Auror, of course." His eyes started twinkling again. "And how is Giselle?"

"Same as always," Harry said with a shrug. "She's snobby, shallow, and rude, but at the same time the most loving woman in the world. She's the greatest woman I've ever had the fortune of meeting."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Say, did you ever figure out Elvina's potion? Did you ever find out...?"

"If everything she said about it was true?" Harry finished, seeing Dumbledore nod. "Yes, I did. It's a long forgotten potion, which I found after hours in the Avalon library. Yes, everything was true."

Dumbledore eyes lit up, as he was always thirsty for knowledge, and he looked at Harry curiously.

"Please, Harry, do tell, what does it do?"

"Basically, it speeds things up," Harry explained. "According to Merlin, this was a potion used a lot in times of war, because when they faced the risk of dying any day, they didn't want to spend meaningless time with people they may have turned out to hate, so they drank it. One might say that it speeds up the time around your emotions only, allowing feelings that could take years to surface to appear after only a few minutes."

"Ah, and Elvina, being a great Seer, already knew that her time was short, and as such-"

"Already knew that she would be giving it to me. Maybe she wanted some measure of equality. After all, she had been watching me since before I was born. She knew me better, I think, than I knew myself, and maybe she didn't want to spend her last days alive loving someone who wasn't even in love with her yet?"

"So, you feel that she was right to do so, then?"

"Oh, Merlin, no, and I'm going to make sure to punish her when I die," Harry said immediately, making Dumbledore chuckle. "Just because I can understand why she did it, and I don't blame her for it, that doesn't mean she was right to do it without permission."

"And had she asked?"

"I would have said no."

Dumbledore looked positively delighted. He always got that look whenever they talked about Elvina, and what she knew.

"And, naturally, she knew this as well," he quipped, chuckling.

"Naturally."

"I am pleased to see that you are happy, my boy," Dumbledore said. "You have no idea how much it pleases me."

"Yeah, but you know, this job isn't exactly easy," Harry said, chuckling. "I mean, I have the wizards on one side, then the goblins on another, centaurs on the next, and..."

Harry trailed off and blinked. Dumbledore's eyes were closed. Slowly, he leaned forward and reached up, pressing his fingers against Dumbledore's neck. No pulse... His chest wasn't moving, either.

Harry sighed as he rose from the chair. His staff transformed into a walking stick, and the recliner vanished. He reached down and put a hand on Dumbledore's forehead, closing his eyes in respect to the old man.

"I'll see you on the other side. We'll have a drink with my parents. But not yet, of course."

With that, Harry turned and walked away from the bed, over to the door. Opening it, he took a step out of the room, then stopped and looked back at the still, peaceful form of his old mentor, a smile slowly appearing on his face.

"Pip pip," he said, winking at the dead man, before leaving the room.

On the bedside table next to the bed were a few items that defined who Dumbledore was. There was the candy bowl Dumbledore had received on the Christmas of nineteen ninety-seven, filled to the brim with lemon sherberts, and his pair of half-moon shaped glasses. Leaned against the candy bowl, however, was something one wouldn't expect to find in the room of an ancient old man. It was a chocolate frog card, and on it was the smiling figure of Harry Potter, a goatee on his face.

_**HARRY POTTER**_

_Currently Minister of Magic_

_The first wizard to survive the Killing Curse, earning the_

_title 'The Boy-Who-Lived.' Most famously, for the defeat_

_of the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time, Lord Vo-_

_ldemort in 1998 and his work and revolutionisation of t-_

_he Ministry of Magic. Founder of the peacekeeping mag-_

_ic council known as the Dragon Order. Discovered the c-_

_ure for madness induced by the Cruciatus Curse._

–

_And now, I think it's time for you kids to go to bed. Alright, maybe just one more story. I'll tell you all about how I bested the fearsome Djinn known as Ripper! Hey, where are you going? Hey! What, stories about me aren't good enough for you? Damn brats! Ungrateful, the lot of you! Fine, see if I tell you any more stories in the future... I don't even care..._

–

–

**Finished! Story is complete! You know what happens next. Review, review, review, and review again! Bwahaha! I want reviews! They give me inner strength!**

**R&R**

**R&R**

**R&R**

**R&R**

**R&R**


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